The Tale of Sudhendra Vahl: Every Day a Walk In The Park... Options

[OverrideB1]

Some screenies for your perusal:

Kynareth Armour
[img]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v636/OverrideB1/KynarethArmour.jpg[/img]

Arkay Armour
[img]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v636/OverrideB1/ArkayArmour.jpg[/img]

What YOU looking at?
[img]http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v636/OverrideB1/AssassinVahl.jpg[/img][/img]

[minque]

OOOOHHHH! great holy whatever......gorgeous screenies.....and last part.....jejejeje....I´m jumping up and down on the chair at the moment,,

I downloaded those mods some days ago but couldn´t decide which armour I´d try first...but now I know.....KYNARETH.....extremely beautiful, and it will suit Serene perfectly......

ojojoj..... have a :cake: for sharing those pics..and for continuing the story

[MerGirl]

Awesome piccies! Oh, and keep writing, you! :hugesmile:

[OverrideB1]

“D’ye think ye can take me, Dark Elf?” Honthjolf snapped, descending the steps to stand on the opposite end of the wooden pier that jutted out over the underground lake. “I eat fetchers like you for breakfast, always have, always will. Well, Dark Elf, got anything to say, or are ye so scared that the Khajiit’s got yer tongue?”

“Let’s dance Honthjolf,” I replied with a grim smile, advancing down the deck towards him. He frowned and then, with a yell, drew his sword and rushed to meet me. Our blades clashed, striking sparks that glittered in the semi-darkness of the cavern. Again and again we struck at each other: blocking and circling, each seeking an opening. Locking blades for the third, or fourth, time, Honthjolf hissed, “you’re good Elf, but not as good as I am.”

With a scything kick, he swept my feet from under me, causing me to crash down on the wooden pier. In retaliation, I hammered the heel of my steel boot into his exposed knee, making him cry out. As he took a step back, I kicked him again, this time aiming a good deal higher than his knee. Honthjolf’s eyes crossed and he wheezed as he sank to his knees. A third kick knocked him onto his back.

I was quicker to my feet and the Nord’s eyes widened as he saw the heavy Ebony blade hissing down towards his head. With a grunt, he rolled to the side. Which is never a good idea when you’re on a narrow wooden platform over a body of water and, this is the important bit, the platform has only got rope to stop you from falling in. Bigger and heavier than the Dunmer that had lived here with him, the rope slowed him not in the slightest and, with a curse he disappeared. The splash as he hit the water was quite impressive.

I knelt on the platform, looking down into the florid face of the splashing Nord less than a foot below me. Wordlessly, I extended my hand down towards him. “Akatosh’s Balls,” he said, reaching up towards my hand “that’s bloody decent of you.”

“Bob beichia blygedig a blygedig ail,” I said commandingly. His eyes widened as he realised what I’d done.

“You bloody bit….” The rest of his comment was literally drowned out by the water rushing into his mouth as the magically burdened armour dragged him under. I sat, watching dispassionately, until the surface of the underground lake was smooth and still, and no more bubbles of air broke its dark, glassy plane. Far, far below I could faintly make out the spread-eagled form of the traitor sinking deeper in to the stygian darkness that dominated the depths of the lake.

Packing away the few meagre treasures I’d found in Aharnabi ~ which, admittedly, included two apprentice scrolls (the spell ‘Shockbane’ and a spell to summon a bound longbow) ~ I returned to Tel Vahl. There I was informed that the Black Writ on Rolis Garvon had been issued in the name of Great House Telvanni. Nodding, I retired to my chambers high atop the tower.

I brooded as I leafed through the ‘Daedric Shrines of Importance’. I had been contacted by three of the Princes and each had asked me to do something for them. My innate suspicion, bolstered by a healthy dose of Telvanni paranoia, warred with the ideas and concepts I’d picked up here on Vvardenfell in the last months. Still mulling over what I should do, I fell into a deep sleep…

With a gasp, I jerked upright in bed ~ my brow clammy with sweat and my heart hammering. My dream had been extremely disconcerting even though I could only recall part of it.

[b]A tall figure with a golden face (perhaps a mask of some sort) led me by the hand between two columns of finely dressed Mer. As we progressed, I came to the horrified realisation that, even though I could hear them talking, they were all dead. The masked figure spoke to many of the dead, laughing and jesting with them as though they were alive, even though they made no reply.

In my dream the tall figure had turned and addressed me, even though his words made no sense. The horrifying realisation that I, too, was numbered among the dead gathered there jerked me awake with a thin cry of terror.

It was many hours later when the disturbing images faded from my mind and I was, finally, able to fall into a fitful sleep.

[Fuzzy Knight]

Great.. Great, its very tense now I think... Nice done OverrideB1 :drool:

[Wolfie]

I found what she did to Honthjolf both cruel and hilarious

[OverrideB1]

I don’t mind admitting that last night’s dream affected me deeply: partially because I seemed unable to clear the imagery from my mind and partially because I had deep and dark suspicions about the sudden occurrence of such a bizarre dream. I well remembered my conversation with Tuls Valen concerning the often-prophetic dreams that seemed to be afflicting the populace and my notion that these dreams were being caused somehow. However, distressing as the dream had been, dwelling on it would accomplish nothing.

Frald the White welcomed me back with a smile and a laugh, his booming voice the perfect antidote to the cloud that had settled around me since last night. Before too long, I was at ease with the bluff Nord and, more importantly, at ease with myself again. We spoke of many things, the conversation finally turning to the problems that the Legion was having with both the Ordinators and the Buoyant Armigers.

“The Ordinators?” I said, puzzled. “I know the Armigers hold us in low regard, but I was unaware that the Legion had similar problems with the Brothers of Indoril.”

“Brothers of Indoril? That’s an odd thing to call them,” Frald said as I cursed silently to myself.

“It’s a local name,” I replied, extemporising as quickly as I could. “I thought it would be a good idea if I learned something of the customs of my adopted home.”

“Hmmm, not a bad idea lass,” Frald said. “Providing you remember where your true loyalties lie.”

“Oh don’t worry,” I assured him, “I never forget that.”

Frald then told me about the problems with the Ordinators ~ legionnaires being hassled if they had to go to Vivec City, that sort of thing. The biggest problem, according to him, was an Ordinator named Suryn Athones of the Office of Justice. He had been spreading slanderous lies about the Legion and, despite requests that he cease and desist; he’d continued to spread poison about. Frald and the High Command had finally had enough ~ Athones’ lies needed to be answered. I am to speak to the Ordinator and politely ask him to cease speaking falsehoods. If he will not… well, Frald’s expression was ‘stop his lying mouth with blood’.

As I made my way across the bridge into Vivec’s Foreign Quarter Canton, I realised that Malacath had spoken about ‘The Man God’s City’ when he was railing against Oreyn Bearclaw, from what I had picked up, the Lord Vehk certainly qualified as a ‘Man-God’. My supposition was a good one; the Oreyn name is well known in Vivec City. The gondolier regaled me with various tales of the Bearclaw-Clan as he ferried me across to the Temple Canton. In among the tales was the information I sought ~ Farvyn Bearclaw is the last surviving descendent of Oreyn. Farvyn is, by all accounts, a powerful Battlemage who rarely travels without his retinue of servants. Even more interesting was the news that Bearclaw was heading towards Gnaar Mok.

As I’ve yet to break my fast this day, I directed the gondolier to drop me off at the Telvanni Canton ~ at least I could be sure of a good reception there. The Lizard’s Head provided an excellent meal and I was enjoying it thoroughly when an ancient Nord approached me. “Spare an ex-mercenary the price of a jug of Matze Ser?” he asked.

I was about to send him on his way when I remembered the problems I’d had with Gaenor. Not wishing to risk a repeat of that particular… unpleasantness, I called over the patron and purchased a flask of the sweet-tasting liquor. “Thank you, thank you Ser,” the Nord said as I uncorked the flask and gave it to him. “I am Ennbjof,” he said, inclining his head politely. “And I would reward ye for your generosity.” With that, the Nord dropped a rusty iron key in front of me.

“What’s this?” I asked.

“That be the key tae the tomb of Olmgerd the Outlaw,” he said. “He was the son and heir of Harald Hand-Free, a king o’ the First Era. I dinnae ken where the tomb is,” he added, “but I do know it be somewhere betwixt the ruins o’ Zaintiraris an’ the tower o’ my former mistress Therana.” Ennbjof and I continued to talk, the Nord finally revealing that he was terminally ill, hence his current poor state. Wishing him well, and slipping him enough coin to keep him in Matze for a month or more, I took my leave and walked over to the Temple Canton.

Suryn Athones was easy enough to find, having his own office in Offices of Justice. He sneered when he saw me. “Athones,” I said, “why do you spread falsehoods about the Legion?”

“Because they are not falsehoods,” he snapped in reply. “The words I speak are true: the Legion is an abomination, servitors of a corrupt Emperor, and adherents to a false religion.”

“Those are dangerous words to speak, Brother of Indoril,” I responded. He looked at me with narrowed eyes. “Especially in this time of unrest. Man and Mer have been executed for such words. It would be a grievous loss to the Temple if such a devout Brother were to meet such an end.”

“I will… think on your words Sed,” he replied, the Septim having dropped.

“Under normal circumstances,” I said slowly, “such would be sufficient. However, I am under certain orders should you not recant your slanderous lies.”

Suryn Athones drew himself up to his full height, looking very imperious and proud, “I will not be threatened,” he said coldly, placing his hand on the handle of his mace.

“Be wary Athones,” I placated, raising a hand. “For I am not who you think I am.”

“All I see is a failed priest and a legionnaire,” the Mer responded crossly.

“Failed priest… maybe,” I replied, “and a legionnaire most certainly. However I wear the Brown and am leader of that House.”

My coded message got through to the Mer all right. He blanched, going quite pale and his hand dropped from the mace slung at his waist. “Forgive me Arch-Magister,” he said, sitting down on the edge of his desk. “I shall keep my opinions to myself in future.”

“That is all I ask,” I replied, heading towards the door. With my hand on the handle, I turned and said, “For what it’s worth Athones, I agree with your sentiments, but now is not the time to voice them.”

[Fuzzy Knight]

WoOoOoOoW... Your a great writer and modder.. Holy Cheesecake! Very very well done Override, very nice! :lickinglips:

Keep on writing and posting screenies

:goodjob:

[OverrideB1]

“Are ye sure that foul-mouthed son of a Guar will keep his mouth shut?” Frald demanded. I replied that I thought that I had given the Ordinator sufficient cause to keep quiet. Frald grumbled a bit, but finally seemed willing to accept that. “Aye well,” he said, giving me a strained smile, “I suppose we can always deal wi’ him if he starts up again.”

“Forgive me for asking,” I said, “but is there a problem?”

“Aye lass,” he said heavily. “A good friend of mine, Saprius Entius, is bein’ sought for the crime o’ murder.”

“Is he guilty?” I asked.

“Oh aye, that he is,” Frald responded after a second’s silence. “Struck down some Dark Elf in anger, totally unprovoked…”

“Then what is the problem?” I asked. “Surely it’s a matter for the local justices?”

“Nay, it’s no that simple lass,” Frald said. “See, given the strain between the Empire and the locals, we dinnae think he’ll get a fair trial.”

“If he’s guilty,” I said, genuinely puzzled and angry, “does it matter if his trial is fair or not? After all, in the Empire there are people who are innocent and don’t get a fair trial.”

Something in my voice must have registered with Frald, because he looked at me sharply. Whatever he needed to see must have been obvious in my face: he nodded and said, “aye lass, there’s many an exile serving sentence that was nae passed fairly. Still, there would be great unrest, both here and on the mainland, if Entius didn’t get a fair trial.

“I know it’s unfair of me to ask,” he continued, “but I need you to travel to Vivec City and find Entius and bring him back here. I swear,” he added quickly as I glared at him, “that he’ll be tried and found guilty. There’s nae a doubt about it lass, he’s as guilty as sin itself. But the Empire will be seen to provide a fair trial, and that’s what matters.”

Reluctantly I agreed to travel to Vivec City and see if I could find him and bring him back to Fort Hawkmoth ~ I knew it would be no easy task with the Ordinators hunting him. I thought bitterly of my words to Suryn Athones defending the Empire. Now here I was, doing the very deeds that Athones had maintained the Legion was always doing.

A few quiet questions of the gondoliers directed me to the Arena Canton where, according to Devas Irano, he’d seen a Man dressed as I was. Since I was clad in full uniform, and no legionnaire would have any business at all at the Arena, this could only be Entius. As I was ferried to the Canton, I thought about Saprius Entius. If I were trying to hide out in Vivec City I’d want somewhere where there were very few patrols and few people went. That would mean either the Canal-Works or the sewers.

My reasoning proved to be correct, the murderous Knight was hiding out on a storeroom down in the Canalworks. “Saprius Entius?” I asked. He nodded, stepping forward with his hand outstretched. Before I could respond, the door to the storeroom crashed open and two Ordinators strode arrogantly in.

“Told you one would lead to the other,” Suryn Athones said, giving me a contemptuous glare. “You will both come with us and you’ll be charged with murder and conspiracy to pervert the course of justice.”

“I cannot allow you to do that Athones,” I said, my heart sinking as I realised there could only be one outcome to this confrontation. “Entius will stand trial in an Imperial court.”

“Where, no doubt, he’ll be found innocent of all charges,” the other Ordinator snapped.

“It will not be like that…” I began to say but Suryn Athones had already heard enough.

“Liar,” he snapped, grabbing his mace and advancing. “I have heard enough of your lies Arch…”

“ENOUGH!” I thundered, cutting across the potentially disastrous revelation of my rank and position. “Entius will be tried in an Imperial Court and found guilty. He will not be made to stand trial here where unscrupulous people can make political capital from it.”

That was too much for the indignant Ordinator, with a scream of pure fury; Athones lunged forward, striking out with the heavy mace. My Ebony blade was already in motion, the crash of the blade meeting the shaft of the mace echoed by the clash of Entius’ sword blocking the other Ordinator’s mace. While Entius fought the second Ordinator, I drove Athones back towards the entrance, my sword whickering in a deadly figure-of-eight pattern.

Realising he was running short of room, Athones pushed back, blocking my blade with his mace and striking at me. As the heavy mace thumped against my armour and I felt the bite of its magic, I slashed the sword across ~ the blow tearing open Athones’ cuirass and drawing blood. With mounting fury, I hammered blow after blow in, paying little attention to his increasingly fewer counter strikes.

Who was I furious with? It was difficult to say. Partially I was livid about Saprius Entius’ behaviour: his wanton act of murder had forced me into this position. Some of the anger was directed at Frald and the Legion; whose desire to protect ‘their own’ had brought about this fight. Another part of me was furious with Suryn Athones and his stiff-necked, self-righteous, holier-than-thou attitude. And some was directed inwards.

Athones had moved from an aggressive-defensive stance to one of purely defence as I hammered in blow after blow, denting and tearing the armour with the force of them. His eyes widened as my blade punctured his armour, the ebon point sliding deep into his stomach. Whipping the blade clear, I made a crosscut that smashed several ribs and drove the shards into his heart. As he slumped against the wall and slide, bonelessly, down it I turned to face Saprius.

He grinned at me, wiping his bloodied blade on the cape of the Ordinator that lay at his feet. “Say a single word to me killer,” I hissed, “and your blood will join theirs.” His eyes widened but, wisely, he kept silent. “Head up towards the gondolier,” I instructed the ashen-faced Man. “if you try to run, or do anything that irritates me, I’ll cut you down before you can blink.”

Keeping the Man in front of me, I guided him upstairs and out to the gondolier who, quite naturally, was happy to take a double fare to ferry us to the Foreign Quarter. From there, I guided Entius down to the docks and charted a vessel to carry us to Ebonheart. The journey, needless to say, was a quiet one.

He scrambled onto the quayside as the boat-owner tied up the skiff, reaching down to give me a hand onto dry land. With a contemptuous flick of the fingers, I levitated up and out of the boat, allowing the spell to collapse the instant my feet touched the cool stone. He raised an eyebrow, but made no comment as I marched him off towards the Fort. Once I had him safely behind locked doors, I marched upstairs to face Frald.

He sensed my mood and, quite disconcerted, fumbled his way through a thank you. “I have some news for ye lass… erm, Knight Vahl,” he said, quickly amending his avuncular style as I glared at him coldly from hooded eyes. “Ye’re tae report to Fort Frostmoth on Solstheim as the personal agent of Varus Vatinius. Vatinius wants ye tae investigate reports of unrest and disobedience up at the Fort. ‘Tis a surprise tae me, Carius is a canny soldier ~ a little standoffish wi’ his men perhaps, but a good Captain nonetheless.”

“Is that all?” I asked.

“Afore ye go,” Frald said, “I’m sorry I got ye involved wi’ Saprius Entius, I didnae think it would affect ye so much. As a personal thank you, I’d like for ye tae have this…” Frald fetched a helm from his chest, well polished and gleaming as if new ~ even though it was of an older style than the current helms. “This belonged tae my father, Graff. I’d like for ye tae have it.”

I thanked Frald for his gift, warmer towards him than I had been since my return. Taking the orders from him, I translocated to Balmora and spent a quiet night at the former home of Dura gra-Bol.

[jonajosa]

Your peopole have great english accents. Aye, Nay, ye.

Anyway keep it up. :goodjob:

[OverrideB1]

My orders, which I’d read last night, were simple. I was to report to Khuul forthwith, arriving no later than the morrow, and take passage to the island of Solstheim. Once there I was to report to the captain: Falx Carius and endeavour to resolve the problems that plagued Fort Frostmoth. These were, according to Vatinius: low morale amongst the Men, raids by the local wild men, and the disappearance of several thousand Septims-worth of weapons from the quartermaster’s stores. Not much of a task then.

Ald’ruhn was my first stop: in its usual Septim-pinching manner the Legion had provided me with a chitty to pay for my passage from Khuul to Solstheim but not any money to travel up to Khuul. Delas Mrania soon solved that problem, for the sum of eight hundred and seventy-five Septims she sold me a Void Walk spell for Khuul. As I made my way outside into the dusty morning air, a young Breton approached me.

“Excuse me,” he said, “but am I right in thinking that you’re bound for Solstheim? I’m sorry, but I couldn’t help but overhear. My name, by the way, is Louis Beauchamp.”

“Well Muthsera Beauchamp,” I said, “it so happens that your eavesdropping has paid dividends. I am, in fact, Solstheim-bound.”

Louis Beauchamp beamed happily and launched into his tale. It seems that, using bits of Dwemer machinery and a good deal of magic, this ambitious young Breton had cobbled together some sort of flying ship. It, and its crew, had been despatched to Solstheim to find a place called “Hrothmund’s Bane”. From there they were supposed to recover a powerful amulet and return it to Louis. With typical Telvanni guile, I agreed to fetch the amulet for him ~ should I find this tomb. He had offered me the princely sum of two thousand Septims for recovering information about his airship and bringing him the amulet.

The Argonian who ran the service from Khuul to Solstheim wasn’t too happy with the Imperial travel voucher but, as I pointed out, it would ensure that it got the full payment for the journey without it having to negotiate with me. That seemed to satisfy it and we set off northwards about an hour after I arrived in Khuul. The journey, some eight hours long, was boring beyond words and, to my dismay, increasingly cold.

By the time we arrived at the quayside at Fort Frostmoth, I was shivering with cold and beginning to regret ever travelling here. Fortunately, a Nordic trader at the docks was selling huge fur capes and, for the sum of thirty-five Septims, I was soon warmly wrapped in a silver-grey fur cloak. The same Nord directed me to the captain’s office in the Fort.

“Vahl isn’t it?” the sandy-haired Cyrodiil asked, when I extended the parchment bearing my orders. “You made remarkably good time. I was only informed of your arrival this morning. I know why you’re here,” he added, waving aside my orders.

“My biggest concern, at the moment, is the morale of the men,” he said, sitting behind his desk and motioning for me to sit opposite him. “It’s very poor; so poor, in fact, that it’s teetering on the brink of open insurrection. What I need… want you to do is find out why. Talk to the men, find out what the problem is and then we’ll see what can be done to sort it out.

“Before you go, a couple of things. Posting to Frostmoth is seen as punishment: it’s not the most popular garrison in the Empire. Consequently, the troops here are not the very best, so you’ll need to bear that in mind when you speak to them. The other thing is, we’ve arranged a room for you in the North Curtain Wall ~ nothing fancy I’m afraid, but there’s a fire and a bed and a few necessities.”

Thanking the Captain, I made my way to the curtain wall and quickly located my room. It certainly wasn’t anything fancy, although the thick fur rugs on the floor added a touch of unexpected luxury. There was a bed, and a fire, a large garderobe, and a couple of small chests. Stoking the fire, I fell onto the bed and fell into a deep sleep.

[MerGirl]

Awesome as always, Override! Oh, um, this might seem stupid, but I forgot what "Muthsera" meant. :embarrassed2: Is it an expression of respect or something?

Anyway, keep writing! :goodjob:

[Rane]

[quote=MerGirl] Oh, um, this might seem stupid, but I forgot what "Muthsera" meant. :embarrassed2: Is it an expression of respect or something? [/quote]

Aye, that's exactly what it is. A term of respect.

[OverrideB1]

The day was clear and bright when I made my way out into the courtyard after breaking my fast. Bitterly cold, but brilliant sunshine: perverse. It quickly became apparent that I was not popular amongst the troops ~ at first I thought it was because I was Dunmeri, but the real reason soon became apparent. Somehow the rumour had gotten started that I was here to punish them for their recent infractions.

“Nothing could be further from the truth,” I insisted for the fourth time this morning. “I’m only here to resolve whatever problems there are, not to punish anyone.”

“Better not be,” the Spearman muttered, “bad enough you can’t get a drink here what with the ban.”

“Ban?” I asked, “what ban would that be?”

“Mighty thirsty work, this talkin’,” the Spearman said. “A fellow needs a good stiff drink to keep it up.” I got the message, and it was easily solved. Or so I thought. There was not a single drop of alcohol to be had in the Quartermaster’s store. Well, I could solve that problem too. Returning to the room in the curtain wall that I’d been assigned, I cast a Mark before using the stronghold ring to get me back to Tel Vahl.

Gorven Menas had what I was looking for and, less than an hour later, I was back at Fort Frostmoth with a couple of flagons of Matze, three flasks of Sujamma, and a bottle of Flinn. Stepping out of my room, I saw a Trooper and, Matze in hand, approached him.

“Is that what I think it is?” he said. I nodded and allowed him to take the flask. Raising it to his lips, the Cyrodiilic Trooper took several great swallows before handing the (now nearly empty) flagon back to me. With a thunderous burp, he said, “bless you ma’am. First drop I’ve had in a Horker’s age.”

“Why is that?” I asked.

“Well, Captain Carius banned it ma’am,” the trooper said in surprise. “Banned all alcohol consumption he did. They say it was because of our poor performance that he banned it. Poor performance my…. Sorry ma’am,” he suddenly remembered who he was talking to.

“I did no such thing,” Falx Carius said angrily when I told him that the ban on alcohol was adversely affecting the men’s morale. “Nuncius was twittering on about banning it but I made it quite clear that such an action would breed discontent….”

While Carius was considering his words, I decided that I should speak to another of the soldiers. It was obvious that there was some ban in place, equally obvious was the fact that Falx Carius wasn’t behind it. It cost me most of another flagon of Matze, but I soon found out what I needed to know.

“Well ma’am,” the Spearman said, “If’n I remember rightly, it was Nuncius what said the ban was probably ‘cause of our poor performance. Come to think of it, it were him that told us about the ban in the first place.” Well, wasn’t that interesting? Nuncius and Falx had had a discussion about banning booze at the Fort; the Captain had made it quite clear that he would not support such a ban. Then Nuncius tells everyone that the drinking of alcoholic beverages is banned and told them that Captain Carius banned it because of the soldiers’ poor performance. Perhaps a quiet word with the priest Nuncius would be in order.

Nuncius wasn’t in his office on the dreary second floor of the Armoury building but his office wasn’t locked, so I went in to wait for him. I was sitting there, looking around the office at the bare and austere walls when I spotted two flagons of Sujamma by the cupboard. Which was interesting… especially since, according to the soldiers, the Fort had been ‘dry’ for a couple of months. If there were no shipments of alcohol and the Fort had been dry, whither came these two bottles in the priest’s office?

Desk or cupboard? Which should I try first? Since I was sitting at the desk: that would be a good place to start. It was the work of seconds to open the locks with Ondusi’s Lock-Splitter and I knew, even before I opened the deep drawers, exactly what I would find. Sure enough, each of the four drawers were filled with bottles of high-grade hooch; Matze, Sujamma, Flinn, even a couple of bottles of Cyrodiilic brandy. Grabbing a couple of bottles, I went over to the Imperial Cult.

“I… I… have no idea wh-what you’re t-t-talking about,” Antonius Nuncius stuttered when I asked him why he’d been poisoning the men’s minds. With a savage grin, I produced the bottles I’d taken from his desk and put them on the shrine in front of him. “You broke into my desk!” he squeaked in false indignation.

“Tell me why you were stealing the booze, telling the men it was banned and that the whole situation was the Captain’s fault,” I demanded.

“I hate it here,” he snapped. “I was hoping that, if the situation here got bad enough I could request a transfer.”

“You foolish little priest,” I spat, “do you have any idea how close you came to formenting a mutiny? Ahhh, when Carius hears about this…”

“Surely you don’t need to tell him,” the priest asked anxiously. “I can return the booze, say it was all a misunderstanding….”

“I’m sorry,” I said, even though I wasn’t. “But something of this magnitude? There’s no way I can keep it from the Captain.”

“But he’ll destroy me,” Nuncius wailed as I left the shrine.

“I’ll destroy him,” Falx snarled angrily. “I’ll wall him up in the northern tower and let him freeze, or starve, whichever comes first. I’ll…”

“…Do nothing of the sort,” I interjected. “What you will do is write to Nuncius’ superiors telling them how pleased you are and that you want his assignment here made permanent. Then all you have to do is ensure that Nuncius can’t get word out about how much he hates it here. And, since all mail has to come through you…”

“I always suspected that Dark Elves were downright sneaky,” Captain Carius said admiringly, “but that, that’s downright vindictive. I love it!”

[Aki]

Hehe. :goodjob:

Solstheim eh?

One wonders where this can lead....

[Wolfie]

only to much fun and merriment

[OverrideB1]

“Let’s drink a toast to a job well done,” Carius said, fetching a bottle of fine brandy from his cupboard. “I’ll have the quartermaster issue you some Cure Disease potions and a silver sword. I’m sure both will come in handy. Now, while we’re here relaxing, let me tell you about the weapons situation here.

“I’ve been doing regular inventories,” the Captain said, “and I’ve noticed that supplies of things like arrows, bolts, daggers, and swords are getting dangerously low. And, it seems, no matter how many I order as replacements, the stock continues to dwindle at an alarming rate.”

“Smuggling?” I quizzed, “and, if so, do you suspect your own men of being involved?”

“I’m pretty confident that the men aren’t involved, although I have suspicions about a couple of them. And yes, I suspect that there’s a team of smugglers involved somewhere. Could you ask around, see what you can find? And, since this is likely to be a dangerous assignment, I’ll provide you with some backup. Saenus Lusius is one of the smartest non-commissioned soldiers I’ve had the privilege of knowing. One day he’s going to be sitting in this chair ~ or one very like it somewhere. Gaea Artoria is one of my very best swordsmen; she’s the finest exponent I know. Saenus is resting up after doing some work for me; you should be able to find him in lower General Quarters. Gaea is probably in the General Quarters too at this time of day.”

I spoke to both Lusius and Artoria briefly, deciding that I’d take the brains over the brawn. I was soon to find that I had both. Saenus asked what we were doing, and I explained. “We’re to deal with the smugglers,” I said. “We have a remit from Captain Carius to deal with them as we see fit before reporting back to him.”

“Hmmm,” Saenus said. “Well, if we’re investigating weapon’s theft, old Zeno is probably the best person to speak to.”

“What did you mean, ‘hmmm’?”, I asked.

“Oh that,” Saenus said. “I was just thinking, if we’ve got free rein from the Captain, we might be able to strike a deal with the smugglers to get our weapons back.”

“Smart thinking,” I said as we trudged across to the Armoury. “Although, if it comes down to a fight, we can recover the goods anyway.”

“True,” he said, pushing the door to the Armoury open for me. “But my method has the added benefit of less risk of injury.”

“Scared of getting hurt?” I taunted gently.

“Not at all,” he said with a grin, flexing his biceps. “What about you?”

“Oh, I’m pretty confident I can take care of myself,” I said, allowing a flicker of lightning to play across my fingers.

“Battlemage!” he said softly. “Never seen one of those in action before.”

Even though his assumption was erroneous, I didn’t attempt to correct it. If people think I’m an Imperial Battlemage instead of wondering how I got extensive magical training well, that works for me. Zeno Faustus was a grizzled bear of a Man, Cyrodiilic in origin. He was reluctant to talk to us until Saenus effortlessly bent a sword blade over the anvil with his bare hands and then threatened to do the same with Zeno’s… essentials.

“Gandrung Caverns,” Zeno babbled eagerly. “If I were gonna store stolen arms, that’s where I’d hide ‘em.”

“Makes sense,” Saenus said as we walked towards the Northern Gate. “Close enough to the Fort so that you don’t have to lug weapons for vast distances, far enough away to be secure from accidental patrols ~ we don’t patrol far from the Keep, believe me. The other benefit of Gandrung is that there is access to the open sea ~ it’s at the back of a bay deep enough to get a ship in to.”

I paused as we passed through the gates, taking a deep breath as I surveyed the deep forest ahead of me. I’d been able to smell it, even inside the Fort but here, outside; it was so much more intense. Huge trees sprouted on every side, covering the gentle rises of the land. Thick green grass carpeted the areas between the trees, dotted here and there with the luxuriant growth of bushes. Despite the cold wind, I smiled and luxuriated in the smell of the forest, so reminiscent of where I’d grown up.

“Like forests do you?” Saenus asked, smiling broadly.

“Missed them more like,” I replied, motioning for him to lead the way. We headed roughly eastwards, weaving between the trees and crossing large grassy glades. In one of them stood a large, ornately carved stone ~ about half as tall again as Saenus.

“There’s loads of those,” he said, pointing to the stone as we passed by. “There’s a standing ring at Brodir Grove, then there’s a huge stone a way north of here. Best guess, they’re something to do with the Skaal.”

“Skaal?”

“Uh-huh,” he said. “The wild men who lived on this island before we came here. Nords by origin I’d guess, even though I’ve only seen the one. That’s their name for themselves ~ The Skaal.”

Before I could pursue this line of questioning, Saenus and I had come to the shores of a large bay. There, at the northern end, was a massive stone door, covered in the same ornate carvings as the standing stone. Saenus confirmed that that was the entrance to Gandrung and said, “How do you want to play this Knight Vahl?”

[jonajosa]

:goodjob: :goodjob:

[OverrideB1]

“I think, on the whole, that fighting our way through to the leader of these smugglers is what we’re going to have to do. Whether we want to or not. What happens then will be dictated by what their leader says.”

“A fight. Oh good,” Saenus said, flexing his muscles and unsheathing his sword. “What are we waiting for?”

The stone walls of the Barrow stretched ahead of us, broken by a crude passageway that had been hammered into the side. Motioning Saenus to stand guard near this entrance, I hacked my way past a couple of rats and into the burial chamber itself. A quick scan was all that was needed to show that it was uninhabited ~ by the living anyway ~ and I made my way back to where the Imperial soldier was waiting. Tapping him on the shoulder, I motioned for him to accompany me down the tunnel.

We hadn’t descended far down the sloping tunnel when an Imperial soldier appeared at the bottom. “Crap,” Saenus said, “that’s Mus Roscius ~ one of the best swordsmen around after Gaea.”

“Let’s not give him a chance to demonstrate,” I suggested as the Man drew a sword from his belt and started up the slope towards us. I centred myself, building the construct in my mind before intoning, “chan annwfn s fferedig asgre.”

“By the Emperor’s Balls,” Saenus said as the swirling storm enveloped the soldier in lethal shards of ice, “remind me never, ever, to cross you Battlemage.” I favoured him with a quick grin as we closed on the still figure of the soldier: now covered in a thin rime of ice.

“Please don’t…” I started to say as Saenus Lusius reached out a finger to poke the immobile figure. I was too late, the instant that Saenus touched it, the poorly balanced figure toppled over, smashing into a million shards on the floor of the cave.

“Oh!” Saenus said in a tiny voice. Then he added, “That is seriously gross. Look at all the little bits. I mean, where is that supposed to fit… or that bit, where does that go?”

“Shut up,” I ground out between gritted teeth, flinching as his size eleven feet crunched on the shattered remains of Mus Roscius, grinding them into even finer fragments. “And for the love of Azura, mind where you’re stepping…”

A natural ramp of greyish stone led downwards into the lower reaches of the cave, shortly after that, there was another ramp leading down to even deeper sections. However, right in front of us was a short length of corridor that opened up into a small chamber. Apart from a couple of rats and a pair of bedrolls on a raised wooden platform, the chamber was empty. Well, almost empty. There were five barrels and three heavy looking chests in the chamber.

“Well, now we know we’re in the right cave,” Saenus said, showing me the Imperial broadsword he’d just plucked from one of the chests. I nodded, opening barrels and chests myself ~ just to see what they contained, of course. There were a number of weapons and bits of armour ~ along with a large supply of food. Enough for, say, five people. The Septim had dropped with Saenus too and, gripping our weapons, we headed back into the caverns to find the other four smugglers.

We reached the downward sloping stone and headed into the lower reaches of the cave. Our route took us into a small chamber where a heavily-built Cyrodiil was standing. “Now let’s not be hasty,” he said. “I'll get off the island and leave the weapons behind. You just let me go peacefully and don't cause any trouble with Carius, and I'm gone. And, look, I'll give you this nice axe as a little bonus for keeping this quiet. Carius will never miss me, and I'll just disappear. Ask Lusius about it. He'll give you good advice.”

“What do you think Saenus?” I asked.

“Suits me either way,” the soldier said. “Break a few heads, don’t break a few heads. Up to you really. Although, if he started running right now, I’m pretty sure we wouldn’t be able to catch up with him before he got to the docks and got the Oblivion off the island.”

“Good plan,” the smuggler said. “Let me just grab this…”

“Man obviously doesn’t understand the concept of ‘right now’,” Saenus rumbled menacingly. “Can I show him the difference between smashing his damn' fool head in right now and doing it later?”

“Erm, I’ll just be leaving then,” the Man said.

“Right now?”

“Yes Lusius, right now.” The man headed off down the tunnel at speed, his cry of “Run for your lives lads” echoing through the cavern. Saenus Lusius and I grinned at each other.

Saenus helped me pick out a few trifles in addition to the helm and emblem I’d found ~ he wasn’t above supplementing his own inventory with a few of the choicer items either. When we’d taken our pick of the spoils, we laughed at each other and made our way out of the caverns and back towards the Fort.

“D’you smell that?” Saenus asked anxiously as we drew close to the standing stone. “Smoke.”

We glanced at each other and picked up the pace, running through the woods towards the strengthening smell. As we cleared the trees, we both stopped and stared in shock. The heavy wooden gates had been torn from their hinges, cast aside like a child’s toy. Huge chunks of rubble littered the entrance from the collapsed arch that had housed the gates. Inside the Fort, the scene was no better. The central well had been torn apart and there was a gaping hole in the east curtain wall. Dazed and bloodied soldiers sat or staggered around.

“What the Oblivion happened here?” I snapped to a Trooper as he wandered by.

“Attacked,” he gasped. “Wolves, hundreds of them. And something else, didn’t see what. Tore the gates off their hinges like they was parchment.”

“Captain Carius is missing,” Saenus yelled, rushing back to my side. Within the hour, I’d managed to restore some semblance of order. I despatched a request to Ebonheart ~ the main city, not the docks that exist on Vvardenfell ~ requesting additional troops and stonemasons. The list of the dead was… blank. I gaped at Gaea Artoria when she delivered that news. Falx Carius was missing but, amazingly enough, not a single soldier had died. About ninety out of every hundred was injured, but there was not a single death.

It was Gaea who suggested that I head north and speak to the Skaal. Since they worship wolves, and Frostmoth had been attacked by wolves (I had my doubts but kept silent), she thought that they might know something about what happened.

“They may even be responsible for the Captain’s disappearance,” she said tightly. “We’ve had a few dealings with them,” she added, “but they’re barbarian savages and probably won’t give you the time of day. Still, this skull I found in one of their tombs might be helpful in breaking the ice.”

Since it was late, after sundown, I decided to make a start on the morrow ~ nothing good could come of wandering through wolf-infested forests in the dark. Besides, I wanted to consider the claw-marks I’d seen and hastily hidden. Four deep grooves cut into the surface of a stone. No mere wolf could manage something like that.

[Wolfie]

Cool new addition. :goodjob:
Must they always touch the frozen people though?