Agent, Ebonheart's finest Options

[canis216]

Well, that's a different theory of the Dwemeri disappearance. But I like it, even if it does contradict all those other Red Mountain accounts. Heck, they all contradict each other (depending on who wrote it) so I hereby declare yours just as valid. Nicely done!

[The Metal Mallet]

Wow, that vision was absolutely riveting! I loved it! Great work Jack; you've been constantly improving with each story you work on.

Looks like we have some goals to look forward to seeing now. Let's hope Ro-El pulls it off.

[jack cloudy]

Yup, it's time for Ro-El to investigate his other side.




Fortunately, we soon found out that the ash storm moved only slightly faster than a running man. As things were, the Cloudcleaver could run circles around it. By the time we arrived, we would have a major headstart. We needed to take advantage of our headstart as much as was possible.

Zarador and I spent most of the trip belowdeck, looking over the hopelessly outdated maps of Solstheim.
,,The bad part is, that according to our map, the research facility is right underneath the lake.” I explained to the Altmer.
,,Lake? I don’t see a lake.” He replied with a light frown. I grabbed a pencil and began making crude marks to the map.
,,This here is lake Fjalding. My birthplace is around here, at the Skaal. They don’t like foreigners so it is probably best for you to stay behind at the airship. Nords have a tendency to respond with violence if confronted with strangers.”

Zarador opened a small bottle of flin and took a sip from it as he examined the alterations I’d made to the map.
,,Won’t they see you as a stranger? Perhaps you should take a few of those flashy Centurions with you.” He suggested. I shook my head and rejected this plan.
,,No. Arriving at the village like a Dwemer king will only lead to my head being put on a spear. I have a few relatives living there, such as my uncle or my foster-father. I should be able to solve things and get their help.”

By the end of the day, we’d reached the northern coast of Vvardenfell. The Cloudcleaver continued its journey over the seas, lit only by the moons for I’d covered all lights with a dark cloth. We slept easily in the ancient beds. When I woke up the next morning, I was immediately spoken to by an Administrator.
,,Lord, it appears that we are lost. The coast does not match the map.” It said. I yawned for a bit and headed up to the deck to see for myself. I had to admit, the coast did look different than on the map, even if I took natural corrosion into account. The Imperial fort, or its remains, had clearly not been here for long. A large group of Imperials, an Argonian and a few Bretons were all gathered in the courtyard, looking up and pointing at the airship.

I slapped my forehead in frustration.
,,Leave it up to my luck to park the Cloudcleaver above the heads of the local fort.”
I dragged Zarador out of his bed and had him get dressed up in all of his blue splendour as the airship began its descent.
,,Hold it, Ro-El! What do you want me to do?” He asked a bit cranky due to me kicking him out of the bed.
,,I don’t know. Just get out there and convince those fools that you’re this scholar who has made the fabulous invention of a fully functioning airship. I can’t bother to be slowed down by formalities such as explaining where I found this thing.” I explained and threw a rope out from the ship’s stern.
,,From here on out, I think I’m heading out on my own. I’ll come back. Try to keep the villagers away from the Centurions. The little machines might get agitated and attack.” I waved a short goodbye and then descended along the rope, landing on the beach while hidden from prying eyes by a convenient rock.

I drew my cloak around me and began my long walk to my old home. I followed the river known as Iggnir. As I continued north, the steady decline in warmth continued and soon the river froze. I rested at night, using a scroll of fire and collected twigs to keep me warm. As soon as the sun rose up in the sky again, I would continue my journey. My diet consisted of whatever I could scavenge. Perhaps it wasn’t the most healthy but I simply lacked the courage to hunt some of the more dangerous animals that lived on this frozen pit in the middle of nowhere. My only respite came after four days of travel when I reached the Meadhall of Thirsk. Apart from their rather gruesome habit of displaying bodyparts of fallen foes as trophies, the place was hospitable with a fire always burning and the alcohol always flowing. I stuck with water.

I saw three more days of travel, part of which was through a snowstorm. Only my Nord blood kept me from freezing. Finally, I saw the wooden huts of Skaal in the distance. My cold feet already felt warmer at the sight of civilization in this waste. If I wasn’t born here, I would’ve never believed that anyone would be mad enough to live here. As was the Nord custom, I first entered the Greathall to make my presence known to the current chieftain. Nothing had changed it seemed, for Tharsten Heart-Fang was still in charge. I did not bow, for that would be seen as a sign of weakness. If I knew one thing, it was this. Nords did not like weaklings or cowards. Too bad I was both.

,,Glory and fame to you, Chieftain. I, Roland Wolf-Tail, have returned.” I spoke, using the name I’d received upon birth. Tharsten looked at me closely. After a while, recognition gleamed in his eyes.
,,Little Roland, how you’ve grown! Not as much as I’d hoped, but more than I’d expected! You must be a fully grown warrior now. Yes, join the men around the table. I’ll have the Mead brought out so you can tell us of your exploits and battles.” He barked with a fatherly voice. I remembered that voice clearly, for it was Tharsten who’d raised me as his own son after my parents were killed during the Riestaag, a sacred hunt.

This post has been edited by jack cloudy: Jan 29 2007, 08:39 PM

[The Metal Mallet]

Ahhh so Ro-El is Skaal eh? He's changed quite a lot from their ways it seems.

Great work all the same though, jack. Please continue!

[Malpense the Dark]

Just sat down and read through the entire series, and its fan-bloody-tastic! Having read it all in one hit, the character development really stands out, seeing Ro-El beginning as a slave and developing into this really interesting character discovering who is trying to discover his past life and how it effects him. Great stuff!

[jack cloudy]

Really, really short one. It's also a bit crappy in my opinion. Ah well, I'm really tired so I'll just post this. I'll continue on with this thing during the weekend.




We Nords did what we do best. Tell completely exaggerated stories while getting seriously drunk. After half an hour, I was the only one sober enough to remember my name. Or all three names I could claim. My name list was getting rather long for comfort. After the heavy drinking, the Skaal continued with another ancient tradition. Snoring till they would wake up again with a huge hangover. The medication for that hangover was more drinking.

Anyway, I went to my old bed and prepared for the night. It was then that Tharsten stumbled in.
,,Roland, we need to talk.” He said with a slurring voice. Somehow, I had the feeling I was not going to enjoy our conversation.
,,What is it, Chieftain?” Tharsten dropped down on the floor like a sack of Kwama eggs.
,,You’ve changed Roland. Ay, your stories were ones of great bravery and glorious battle. But the reality is different. You prefer to fight in such a way that the battle is into your favour before it has even began. You don’t show your opponents any honour. And finally, a toothpick is not the weapon of a warrior!” He gestured wildly with his arms.

,,So, to prove yourself as a Skaal, I have just the thing for you.” He started and looked at me expectantly. My reply was not the one he’d expected.
,,Sorry, but I’m not interested. It’s impossible to have a conversation when you’re drunk.” I replied with an utterly bored voice. For some reason, drunkards lacked any intimidation factor.
,,The land has fallen into bad times. The All-maker has put forth a challenge for us to prove ourselves worthy of his favour. You Roland, will be the one who takes the challenge. The challenge our greatest hero has taken long ago.” Tharsten was drooling on the ground which was a rather disgusting sight. As I’d said before, drunkards failed to impress me. I rolled my eyes and let out a weary sigh.

,,Not that one.” I complained.
,,Yes, the quest of Aevar Stone-Singer! Reawaken the land! Travel to the stones of Solstheim and collect their blessings! Do this Roland, and you will be a man we’ll sing about in our legends. Then, we’ll find you a woman so you can father a whole gang of kids.” He pressed on.
,,Do I really have to? I’m a bit young for marriage and all. There’s also the fact that I’m in a bit of a hurry. I don’t have time to wander aimlessly across the land, looking for some old rocks. Actually, I only came here to find a way into Lake Fjalding.” I admitted.

Tharsten crawled back onto his feet.
,,What?! Your only reason for coming here was because you plan to desecrate the sacret lake? I should smack you!” He shouted angrily.
,,I seriously doubt you could right now. Besides, as you already know, I don’t fight fair.” I reminded him. Tharsten calmed down a bit. Enough to stop drooling.
,,I’ll tell you something. You are the only one who is able to go on this quest right now. Please bring back the blessings to our land and I’ll see what I can do with Lake Fjalding.” I now had the clear impression that the Chieftain was rather desperate. He was lying when he said that no one could go on that quest. In fact, he would have to use violence to keep everyone from going on just that quest if he ever brought up the subject. No, Tharsten had changed since we last met, just as how I’d changed. He’d become a frightened man, a man who wanted me to leave.

But what for? What was he expecting to happen? There was only one way to figure it out. Go on the stupid pilgrimage and come back to find my answers. After stepping into Aevar Stone-Singer’s footsteps, I might be able to gain access to the Dwemer facility through the ice. If the Skaal would refuse to help me, I would just have to use the Cloudcleaver as a giant battering ram. Speaking of Dwemer airships, if I visited Zarador, I could get a Wing. That would seriously shorten my traveltime. I felt stupid for not thinking of this earlier.
,,Oh alright, I’ll do it. Tomorrow.”

[jack cloudy]

The next morning, Tharsten had sobered up again which meant he was capable of coordinated movements. This also meant that going against his decisions now wouldn’t be a bad thing to do but since I’d already decided to do the damn pilgrimage, it didn’t matter. Anyway, the day began with probably the oldest tradition in the village. Throwing beds on their side while people are still sleeping in them.

Tharsten nearly threw the door out of its hinges and walked straight up to my bed.
,,Wake up, Roland! You’re wasting good sunlight!” He barked and threw the bed onto its side so hard, it slid across the floor till it ended up against a wall. Painful for the occupant, I remember.
,,Don’t throw the bed. You’re wasting good furniture.” I quipped, standing in the doorframe with my arms crossed in front of my chest. The dumbfounded expression on the Chieftain’s face was a classic.

,,Wha? How did you get there?” He stammered. I shrugged and walked into the room.
,,That’s something I learned. How to move unseen. And as for me being all up and ready to go save the world, I’ve developed the habit of waking up early. A couple hours before you do, to be precise.” I told him with a smug grin. Back in the days before I moved to Vvardenfell, I had the rather dubious reputation of being the one guy who slept through just about anything. Well, not anymore. With all the night-time assassinations to look out for, I couldn’t afford a long rest.

Tharsten recomposed himself. He picked up the bed and slammed it down heavily into its proper position. One of the bed’s legs broke upon impact with the floor and soon after the whole thing fell apart in a dozen pieces or something.
,,Warned you.” I joked. The Nord looked at the remains with complete disinterest.
,,The wood was getting old anyway.” He said as an excuse.
,,At least it will be good wood for the fire. Now get your legs moving. Come one, Aevar Stone-Singer didn’t linger!” He shooed me out of the door. Once I was out of his sight, I slinked back. Tharsten was standing near the pile of wood that used to be the bed. He was holding two pieces and tried frantically to make them stick together. I stifled a laugh and left the building.

The Skaal village was still quiet. It seemed as if Tharsten and I were the only ones awake. The others were still caught in their drunken slumber. That worked for me, it would make my departure a lot easier. I went into my extensive collection of trusty paper and withdrew a scroll of recall. Trudging across the whole island again through a thick pack of snow was not part of my plans. Aevar might have been a longlegged Nord with infinite stamina, I was definitely not.

The moment I reappeared onboard the Cloudcleaver, I nearly had to duck for a Sphere’s sword aimed at my face. Fortunately for me, the machine recognized me and stopped the blade before it could redesign my nose. It reminded me not to use teleportation without caution. That, and the sick feeling of having your stomach upside-down and inverted was another downside to instant travelling.

I made my way to the bedrooms where I heard Zarador’s loud snoring. I played with the thought of the Altmer being drunk like the Skaal for a while but decided not to wake him. I had no success to show him and more importantly, he would not approve of me doing my old family a favour with this long pilgrimage.

Instead of wasting time on a pointless conversation, I restocked my supplies and boarded a Wing. Once I was high up in the air, I took the time to look around while cursing the cold wind. I had heard the story of Aevar Stone-Singer countless times, so finding the damn stones shouldn’t be that much of a problem. Figuring out which one to visit first was. To add to my dilemma, I saw an ominous black cloud to the south. The Ash storm was getting closer. I peered at the dark omen. It was slow and it would never be able to catch me as long as I kept moving. While I knew that this was not the time to worry about such things, I was rather fascinated with the Sixth House’s abilities to track me down wherever I went. I shrugged and pointed the Wing east.
,,Must be one of the perks you get when your boss is a god. Oh well, let’s start with the stone of the sun. Might as well hop over to the closest first.”

[The Metal Mallet]

Nice little splashes of humour jack. I guess the Skaal have yet to get used to the new Ro-El. It'll be interesting to see whether the Sixth House will interfer with the completetion of the Stone quests.

[jack cloudy]

Chapter 3: Frozen blood aflame.

I paced back and forth in front of the Sunstone. Getting there had been a simple matter of flying in the right direction with my Wing. No, the real problem was figuring out what to do. If I’d been Aevar, the damn stone would’ve simply told me. But I wasn’t Aevar. I was Roland Wolf-tail, Ro-El Frost and Dumac Dwarfking returned. The stones wouldn’t just tell me because I was a Nord hero. I wasn’t a hero. In fact, I wasn’t even sure if I should be considered a Nord or a Dwemer.

My only solution came in the form of the story I’d heard countless times before as a child. The results were clearly visible. If Aevar hadn’t done it all before, I would probably still be trudging through the snow trying to find the stone. All I had to do in order to proceed was remember what came next. If only I could remember. Apparently, my adventurous time spent at Vvardenfell, not to mention the recent invasion of Dumac’s memories, had degraded the memories I had left of my childhood. If only I could remember.

,,If, if, if! If if’s were septims, I would be able to make a life-sized replica of Ebonheart castle!” I shouted to no one and kicked the monolith in frustration.
,,The sun has been caught by the unholy ones. Go to the Halls of Penumbra, slay the unholy ones and free the sun from its icy cage.” A voice howled in the wind. I stared at the stone and then at my foot.
,,Kick it. I should’ve known. That’s just the kind of thing Aevar would’ve done in my situation.”

I also now remembered the further part of the story. The Halls of Penumbra was a cavern, roughly to the west of the stone and its walls were coated in ice. It was inhabited by undead creatures known as Draugr, who for some reason had an intense hatred of light. So naturally, the Halls were very dark. And I had to go in there and likely smack them all. Just my favourite kind of thing to do. Not. At least I would have an advantage Aevar did not have. A flying Dwemer machine with built-in crossbow.

I mounted the Wing again and flew off towards the west. My search for the entrance was barely long enough to make up a plan of action. As they say though, the first casualty during a battle is the plan. In my case, this casualty fell at the door. I spent half an hour looking for an alternate entrance but there was none. It was just my luck, having to go through a door that was too small for my Centurion. Still, I would have to go in there, with or without a Dwemer machine at my side.

I weighed my options carefully before even touching the door. Apart from my lack of firepower, the lack of light would be a problem as well. I could go in with a piece of flaming wood, but that would only draw attention. No, it looked as if I had to go in there blind. Not a pleasant idea. But what had to be done had to be done. I took a few deep breaths and tried to open the door. Locked and the lock had been frozen to pieces long ago which made lockpicks useless. Brilliant.

I stepped to the side calmly and pointed at the door that stood in my way.
,,Shoot the lock to pieces.” I ordered and the Wing did it easily with a single bolt. I used my rapier to remove the remaining bits of ice and then gave it a good kick. Creaking loudly, the door swung open, letting light shine into the Halls. No stealthy entrance for me. Immediately following the first rays of light, an earpiercing shriek assaulted my ears. Something heavy and dry smacked into my chest, sending me into the snow. There was a loud thunk, the feeling of something piercing through the air followed by another shriek, one of death this time.

I got up carefully, still a bit dizzy from my sudden flight. The remains of a Draugr lied just a few steps beyond the opening, a bolt cleanly sticking out of the wall nearby. There was little doubt it was death. No matter what form of undead you were, getting blasted into countless pieces the size of a finger has to be unhealthy. I removed the Dwemer bolt and loaded it back into the Wing’s magazine. With the nearest ammunition depot hidden under a thick layer of ice, I wasn’t going to let any bolts go to waste. Having done that, I gave the Draugr a good inspection, for as much as I could.

It was the first time I saw one but I could use my knowledge of other forms of undead to my advantage. The Draugr was the reanimated corpse of a Nord. If it had died anywhere else, it’s flesh would’ve rotten by now leaving only a skeleton. Due to the intense cold of Solstheim though, all the water had been drawn out of its flesh and the flesh had frozen into a leathery substance, making it more look like an underfed man than an undead. In short, it resembled a Bonewalker closest, though without all the juicy bits.

A skeleton with skin. The Wing’s bolt had been big enough to downright shatter the damn thing but I shouldn’t hope of killing them with a rapier. Tharsten was right when he compared it to a toothpick. You don’t go killing with a toothpick. Well, at least not if you don’t know how to use it. No, I would have to revert to my oldest form of fighting. Fists and feet. I took another deep breath and stepped over the Draugr pieces.

The corridor arced downward rapidly and soon the light from outside had vanished. I closed my now useless eyes and focussed on my remaining senses. I could feel the air flowing around me, a breathing barrier between me and what lied beyond. A slight disturbance in the flow. I ducked, feeling something pass through the area where my head had been a moment earlier. Not wasting any time to wonder what had done that, I dashed forward, punching with the tips of my fingers, withdrawing the moment I made contact. There was a horrible sound of frozen skin and flesh cracking, accompanied by the shrieking of the wounded Draugre. I punched again, this time with an open palm. This time the sound was like an explosion as its exposed spine was turned to dust.

I felt around carefully with my boots till I’d confirmed the thing’s death. Silently, I thanked Leroth for teaching me how to fight without eyes and without weapons. His techniques were simply superb, as the complete destruction of the undead had proven. I shuffled further into the cavern, listening and feeling with my entire body for more trouble.

[The Metal Mallet]

Well it seems Ro-El's method is effective at the moment. Let's see how long that last for. Muahaha!

[jack cloudy]

Is that an evil laugh? Is it? Well, don't underestimate Ro-El for he is part Nord, part Dwemer and entirely abnormal. Muhahaha!






And more trouble was what I found. The place was crawling with Draugr everywhere. Too many for me to fight on my own. Still, I somehow managed with a lot of ducking, jumping off walls and simply making them hit each other instead of me. After I’d balanced the odds a bit, I broke the last few Draugr with a few well-placed taps.

The silence that followed was more unnerving than the roaring of the Draugr and the sound of their frozen bones. This pitchblack cavern was wrecking my nerves. I could do without sight, but the lack of light brought a feeling of uncertainty with it. I cleared the lump in my throat, took a few deep breaths to calm down and proceeded further. What had to be done had to be done, whether I felt good about it or not. To be honest, a stubborn part of me refused to simply walk away. This was no longer about stepping in Aevar’s footsteps, this was about my pride. About proving to myself that I could be more than just Dumac reborn. That I could do things on my own, things that were not foretold in prophecy.

Nothing stood in my way and I continued my blind descent. Slowly, light reached through my closed eyelids. At first, I thought I was merely imagining the light but as it grew brighter, I realized it was real. I opened my eyes warily. I immediately wished I hadn’t. Not knowing what you’re fighting can be comforting, even though it is rather dangerous. All I noticed about the thing which protected the light were the claws, the huge spikes on its back and the flaming eyes. Having seen that, I made the right choice. I bravely ran away.

It roared, much louder than all the Draugr combined, as it gave chase. As I went further away from the light, darkness came back. Not entirely though, for the beast’s eyes still burned visibly. I stumbled over the Draugr corpses I’d left behind earlier. Now I wished I’d removed them from my path. It was something you can only complain about when looking back. How was I supposed to know I would be fleeing?

Well, it wasn’t exactly fleeing. Basically, it was the repeat of a tactic I’d used before. When I neared the entrance, the light reflecting off the snow was blinding. I closed my eyes and counted my steps. The moments my feet sank into the soft snow, I jumped to the side and gave the big command.
,,Fire!”
There was a thunk, a roar of agony and anger. More thunks, weaker roaring. Then, the heavy thump of the beast falling facefirst into the snow. It was dead. My plan had been simple. If the Wing couldn't go to the monsters, the monsters would simply have to go to the Wing.

I got up, brushed off the snow and entered the Halls of Penumbra for the second time. This time though, I decided to take a torch with me. Everything inside was dead so I wouldn’t have to worry about stealth. Besides, the stealth hadn’t been very successful last time.

As I’d expected and hoped, there were no undead or big beasts to stop me. I made it all the way to the wall of ice covering the light without any interference. Now came the hardest bit. How to free the light? I paced back and forth in front of the sheet of ice, watching my torch shrink. I tried pressing the flames against it, but there was no result. I hadn’t expected any. This wasn’t normal ice, this was Stalhrim, an odd form of ice that could not be melted by the hottest flames and was stronger than the strongest steel. It was most often used to protect burial sites.

I paced around a bit more, trying to remember what Aevar did. My memories recalled something about plucking an unholy beast’s eye and throwing it at the wall with all his might.
,,No, no and no! I’m not going to drag that thing all the way back here and I’m definitely not going to rip out its eyeball! That’s just gross.” I shouted, my voice echoing all around me. I paced around even more, growing increasingly frustrated.

My torch had died out by now so I dropped it. When my frustration reached a peak, I kicked the Stalhrim wall, which caused a hollow sound like hitting a steel barrel. I withdrew my foot and stared at the wall, realizing my stupidity. The wall was not as perfectly solid as it appeared. In fact, no wall could be perfect. I should have realized it sooner. The answer to my problem was simple, though it required a monk rather than a Nordic warrior to find this answer. The Stalhrim had tiny defects, too small for the eye to see. If exploited, I could use the wall’s strength against itself.

I laid a hand on the wall and felt around for the weaknesses that had to be there. Such an investigation took time, more than an hour, but it was worth it. The strike I planned to make clearly took too much preparation to be usable in combat but it was much more powerful as a result. It was the so-called ‘fist of infinite blows’. One strike that would spark countless following strikes without the monk moving a finger. In the end, the target would vibrate itself to pieces. Once I’d concluded my search, I took a single step back and struck with a single finger, punching at a downward angle like a bird swooping down on its prey. There was no sound of impact, no visual result. In fact, it looked as if I hadn’t achieved anything.

I retreated out of the cavern and had a meal up at the surface. I then jumped on top of the Wing and flew off towards the next stone, the stone of Trees. In a few days, I would return and see the results of this ‘infinite fist’.

[The Metal Mallet]

Those Wings sound quite handy when they can take out Trolls like that quite easily. Good stuff indeed. I'm liking the whole monk attack thingy too (though I don't think it's actually possible in real life, you have to hit the area repeated times lightly to reach it's resonance).

[jack cloudy]

I doubt the monk attack is possible in the real world as well. (Then again, they can smack through a pile of bricks sitting on some guy's throat without harming said throat so, who knows.) It is mostly meant as some sweet storytelling about Ro-El's strength. He's not the strongest, but with his tricks you won't even notice. His fists make zombies explode!

And the wing taking out the Grahl as simple like that, it's really not that hard to imagine. The machine is about the size of a Bull Netch and fires really big bolts. While its crossbow isn't as big as the one you can find outside Dwemer ruins, it's still much bigger than the handheld version. And size of weapon and projectile means power.

Enough of me talking, here comes the update.




At the Treestone, I repeated the activation-process which came down to a simple kick and got my orders. This time, I had to recover the seeds of the First Tree which had been stolen. I was then supposed to plant them near the Treestone.

In Aevar’s story, the snow elves had been responsible for the theft. In my case, the culprit was a Riekling, a creature that was similar to a goblin in size and behaviour. He was surrounded by Spriggans, wood spirits who defended anything plantlike with a fanatic zeal. If I’d simply walk in and try to take the seeds from the little critter, they’d surely attack me and killing a Spriggan required to turn them into little splinters quite thoroughly. That would take too long.

Aevar distracted them with fire, but I had a better solution. After all, I was the reincarnation of the Dwemer king. I might as well use my heritage. I swooped down on the Wing, tackled the little Riekling, snatched the bag he clutched in his fingers and was back up in the air before either the Riekling or the Spriggans had any idea what just happened. That was easy. I returned to the Treestone and planted the seeds I’d found in the bag. A loud rumble came from the snow and a massive tree shot up out of the ground, its branches twisting around the Treestone. For five minutes, the tree continued to grow. Then, it apparently reached its full size and wavered in the wind.

I carefully touched it to make sure it was real.
,,Wow, now that’s impressive.” I muttered to myself. I had no time to delay though, I had to get moving. I turned around and began to walk away when the tree shook its branches. Something fell out of it, right on my head as if it was meant to be on my head.
,,Ouch!” My hands flew up and pulled the object away. Looking down upon it, I had to admit I was impressed again.

It was a helmet, made of the finest Stalhrim. A steel frame held the perfectly shaped band of ice, that ran around the back and sides. At the back, a finger of Stalhrim rose up, arching forward over the top till it ended in a noseguard. It was an excellent example of fine craftsmanship.

Stalhrim weapons and armours were extremely rare, even more rare than Stalhrim itself. Just how this tree ever managed to sprout a helmet of the stuff, I did not know. What was even more surprising was its shape and size. When I said it fell on my head as if it was meant to be there, I wasn’t joking. It fit perfectly. Perfect fit or not, I put it in a bag for the moment and mounted the Wing to continue my quest. The possible consequences of this perfectly fitting helmet were something I did not want to think about right now.

The next one was the Earthstone, at the western edge of the island. I saw the ash storm again during my flight. It hadn’t moved, which worried me a bit. However, I decided to ignore it for the time being and focus on my job.

The Earthstone had me play with music in a cave, which proved to be no problem. After a few moments, I’d figured out the tune and managed to recreate it. When I finished the tune, the cave began to rumble, a crack forming at the far wall. I begun to retreat my steps out of fear for a possible collapse when the earthquake stopped as sudden as it had begun. Still a bit jumpy, I turned around again.

The wall had split open, revealing a small alcove. In the alcove, I saw something which really got me wondering about this quest. A pair of boots, completely dustfree. And just as with the helmet earlier, it was composed of a steel frame, chainmail style in this case, with several pieces of Stalhrim around it. I approached it slowly. As I came closer, I noticed that the Stalhrim didn’t look as if someone had crafted it, instead it looked more as if it had simply grown around the steel mesh. And just to make it even more frightening, the boots were just my size.

I piled them together with the helmet in the same bag once I’d returned to the Wing.
,,This is getting very creepy here.”

Next was the waterstone, which tasked me with finding the Waters of Life. To do that, I would have to find the Swimmer. I approached the coast, where I saw a large black beast sitting on a sheet of ice like a fish on dry land. Upon my approach, it dove into the waters, resurfacing after a moment and looking at me, as if it was waiting for something.

I knew this had to be the Swimmer. Edging forward, I dipped a finger in the water. As I’d already feared, the water was cold and half-frozen, feeling more like a thick soup than water. I sighed and went into my extensive collection of scrolls. Presto, one waterwalk, just what I needed.

Every step on the watersurface was accompanied by the sound of a shattering mirror. Rather peculiar and it might have been interesting for a scholar. Me, I was more worried about the Swimmer. If it decided to dive, I would have to enter the water anyway. As if it had read my thoughts, the creature flipped over and went straight for the bottom.
,,Great. I hate cold water.” I murmured as I lied down on the water and looked down at the bottom. I saw a shadow amidst the rocks littering the seabed, an entrance to an underwater cave. Quite deep as well.
,,I took waterwalk scrolls but forgot to bring a waterbreathing scroll. I’ll remember that next time.”

While the water still supported my weight, I took a few things out of my pack. First came a rope which I tied between my belt and my backpack. After that came a thick blanket which I wrapped around my face and throat to protect them from the intense cold I would experience upon diving into the water. Once I’d finished with my preparations, it was a simple matter of waiting for the spell to run out and deposit me in the water.

The water was so cold, it seemed to burn. I squeezed my eyes shut and took a deep breath before blindly diving for the entrance. By the time I made it to the entrance I’d already reached the point where I should turn around and head back for the surface. Still, I pushed on and entered the darkness.

Water was everywhere, cold, sending sharp bursts of numbing pain into every single part of my body. My lungs screamed from the lack of air. Against my will, my mouth opened and swallowed up the water. I started to feel light as I began to show the first signs of drowning.
,,What an end, drowning.” I thought bitterly.

Something grabbed my leg, dragging me forward at greater speeds than I could’ve swum under my own power. The water rushed up out of my lungs, being replaced by a crisp gas I loved. Air. I filled my lungs again and again, spitting out the last drops of icy water as I did so. Once I felt a bit better, I patted the Swimmer on its head.
,,Thanks, I owe you one.” I said to it. The creature snorted and splashed on the watersurface with its head.
,,Yeah, I know. I’ll have to go on.” I said with a sigh and looked up at my target.

There was a small altar with a potion. The Waters of Life. The potion was not unguarded though. It was covered in a cage of ice. A spectre stood watch, garbed in a full suit of ethereal Stalhrim. It gestured at me with a hand.
,,It is you. I’ve been waiting for a long time, my son.” It said solemnly, a tear running down its face.

,,Come, step on the ledge and follow me. Before you claim the Waters of Life, there are things to discuss, lessons to learn.” It continued and walked out of the small chamber, right through a wall. Feeling no need to remain in the cold water any longer, not to mention being curious, I pulled myself up onto the ledge and shook the water off as good as I could. I then inspected the wall the spectre had vanished through. It was an illusion.
,,I wonder what he has to say.” With that thought and a deep breath, I stepped through.

This post has been edited by jack cloudy: Mar 11 2007, 09:26 PM

[The Metal Mallet]

Hmm these perfectly fitting pieces of armour seemed to tell me that Ro-El was destined to complete these tasks. Quite curious indeed.

Oh yea, and a great read as always buddy.

[canis216]

[Darth Vader voice] It is... your des-tiny. [/Darth Vader voice]

Nice work, Jack. This is a little different from the regular ol' Bloodmoon MQ.

[jack cloudy]

Well, I don't have Bloodmoon so I'm heavily improvising on what I've read about it. Besides, this 'travel to the Stones' quest sounds quite boring. Once at the location it sounds fine, but looking for a single monolith in a frozen waste probably takes a lot of time. I figured some extra rewards were necessary. Ro-El has no need for the official reward. Anyway, update.






If I had been expecting something impressive, such as a buried ship filled with treasure fitting for a Nord king, or a heavily decorated tomb, or even a simple altar with a corpse on it, I would be disappointed. The room was mind-boggling huge, spreading into all directions, but it was completely empty. There were no torches, or any other conventional lightsource. Instead, the walls themselves seemed to radiate with a crimson light that gave me the shivers.
,,What is this place? And who are you?” I asked nervously. The whole place had something creepy to it, ignoring the fact that there was a heavily armed ghost standing near me.

,,Aye, this place, is my curse. Come forward, and I’ll show you.” The spectre beckoned. Slowly and with a hand near my rapier, I approached. Once the being deemed me close enough, it pointed down at the floor. I looked down, and had to suppress the urge to vomit. The floor was transparent, and I could look through it as if it was simply a red mist. A body was down there, impaled upon a monstrous spear. Its chest heaved as it took tortured breaths, its limbs shivering in agony. Its right hand clawed for a weapon that was no longer there, the left clutched the spear’s shaft and tried to pull the weapon out of the wound. The worst was its face, which displayed its pain and despair.

,,That is me. I was once the greatest among the Skaal, now I’m a mere trophy. My body suffers, while my spirit wanders this place restlessly.” The Spectre explained. I tore my eyes away from the gruesome sight and fixed them upon the spirit’s face. Its expression mimicked the pain its body was suffering.
,,I should have died long ago, when the world was still new and Fjalding’s waters rippled in the breeze.” It continued. I delved into my own knowledge of the Skaal. When Fjalding’s waters rippled, that was indeed a long time ago. Some quick calculations, and I realized that this man predated the Empire, or the Tribunal. I shuddered at the thought of how long he had endured this torture even till today. Anyone would have gone mad, yet he had kept his wits about him.

,,How do you manage?” I asked, shaking my head at my own thoughts.
,,I don’t know. From time to time, a woman appears. Her skin is grey as the ash and her eyes burn hot with the fire of a thousand forges. She eases my pain and protects my sanity. Not for me, nor for her, but for you. I have been charged with the task of waiting for you to appear. Here, in this room.” It answered and turned away from its physical prison.
,,I do not know your name, and you don’t know mine. But the woman told me, that you are a direct descendant of my blood. You are a mystery to this world, the seed from which the glorious past shall be reborn. When you came, I had to tell you this. The icy blood of Aevar Stone-Singer flows through your veins, the raging fire of Red Mountain burns in your soul.”

It watched me anxiously, waiting for a response, any response. At first, I was shocked by the revelation that Aevar Stone-Singer himself was my ancestor. Then, I got slightly amused and told myself I could’ve guessed it would be something like that. First Dumac reborn and now the descendant of Aevar, it couldn’t get any stranger.
,,You are Aevar.” It wasn’t a question, I’d said it as if it was a fact. The spirit nodded.

,,Aye, I am Aevar. And you are about to walk in the steps I left behind. After my quest, I became arrogant, absorbed by an illusion of my glory. When the Hunter came into this world, I challenged him openly. We did battle, and I lost. Now I am here, trapped in this tomb as his trophy.” It whispered.
,,Listen carefully, my son. You must travel to the stones, take the armour the woman left for you there. Then, enter Fjalding’s heart where you shall retrieve that which made the lake freeze and turn into Stalhrim. With the heart of Fjalding in hand, you can challenge the Hunter and demand my death from him.”

I sat down and listened, making mental notes on what he told me. Grey skin and red eyes. Since we were talking about an incredibly long span of time, it could only be an immortal being who had visited Aevar. Only one fit the description. Azura. She’d changed the Dunmer, brought the Nerevarine into this world and according to some sources, she was the one who struck down the Dwemer. Just what didn’t she do? While I was thinking, Aevar continued.

,,Unlike me, you have a gift. Your soul is bound to that of an immortal god. Whenever you are struck by magicka, this god will absorb it for you and channel it into a form you can release upon your foes. With this gift, you stand a chance against the Hunter’s guile. You are fast and quick on your feet, you’ve trained to be a lethal weapon without weapons or armour. With this, you will be able to match the Hunter’s speed. You will claim ownership over a sword with no equal, its cold fury will guard you against the Hunter’s strength. You will drink the Waters of Life, which will protect you from death. And finally, you have this.” At these last words, Aevar pulled a ring from his spectral finger. He bent down and slipped it around mine. Despite being nearly invisible and entirely weightless, the ring fit around my finger as if it was solid and real.
,,This ring holds great power. It is bound to my soul. You can use it once, to break me free from the Hunter’s curse for a short time. Use it at the right time, and I shall come to your aid. And as my last gift to you, look at the Swimmer’s side. It suffered a wound long ago. I used my shield to stop the bleeding. By now, the wound has been healed and you should take the shield for yourself. Now go, and may the power of the All-Maker be with you.”

I bowed to him, an universal sign of respect. Then, I departed. I took the potion and called for the Swimmer to take me back. It did so and returned me to Solstheim. Before we went separate ways, I looked at its side as Aevar had told me. Indeed, a sheet of brilliant Stalhrim was embedded into the creature’s side. I jarred it free from the thick mass of its fur. The creature snorted and dove into the ocean, vanishing from sight.

Now that I was alone, I got the odd feeling that it never happened. Yet I had proof that it did happen. Aevar’s ring was around my finger, the water’s of life sat inside my pocket and finally, I had this Stalhrim shield. Like with the other Stalhrim pieces, it was brilliantly crafted, or grown. A single sheet of Stalhrim shaped like a sail, its edges covered by engraved steel. The sunlight reflecting on the Stalhrim caused a shimmer on its surface, a shimmer that looked like a wolf growling at some unseen foe.
,,The Hunter. If I am to challenge him, I need every advantage I can get. So that’s why this armour is popping up around me. I could certainly use its protection.”

[The Metal Mallet]

Excellent discussion with this spirit. Yet again, another bomb of a revelation is made. Not only is Ro-El Dumac, he's also Aevar now!?!?!? I almost wonder if another Incarnate of something dwells within our little Agent.

Loved this update Jack!

[jack cloudy]

He's not Aevar. He's the descendant of Aevar. So Aevar is his great-great-great-great-great-etc. grandfather.

And the last two stones really were hard on me. What to come up with? In the end I kept it simple. Just read.





I did not return to the waterstone. Aevar had literally said that I had to drink the Waters of Life myself. But when, he did not tell. He also didn’t tell me what the Waters would do to me. In the end, it was best to wait with drinking till there was no other way out. And as for the armour piece, I’d already gotten his shield. In short, there was no reason for me to return.

No, I moved on. I’d visited three stones, four if you count the sunstone, and I had three left to go. The windstone, the beaststone and of course the sunstone which I’d partially dealt with already. Continuing my circle around the island, I first came upon the windstone. After the traditional kick against the monolith, I was off again. Frankly, this part of the stonehopping quest turned out to be incredibly boring.

Unlike the previous stones, there was absolutely no challenge with the last ones. The windstone sent me to an empty tomb and the beaststone had me rescue the Good Beast, which had already slain its assailants when I arrived. The rational part of me told me to be glad for this lack of challenge but another part of me complained about the very same thing. Maybe I was more of a hotblooded Nord than I dared to admit.

The good part was that my boredom was rewarded extremely well. Of course there were the usual armour pieces, a pair of greaves and gauntlets in this case, but the windstone also provided me with a very nice pouch. While rather mundane from the outside, it had the peculiar ability of storing a near infinite amount of items, without any mass or size considerations. I found out about this nice effect when I dug around inside it, just to see if it held a few small trinkets, and found a pair of greaves instead which were much larger than the pouch that contained them. Further experiments revealed that I could indeed store anything inside it, including the Netch-sized Wing. This pouch found itself a permanent location at my belt where it remained for many years.

As said earlier, the windstone and the beaststone were boring. With those two out of the way, I returned to the Halls of Penumbra to collect the final piece of armour. When I reached the chamber with the Stalhrim wall, I saw that the wall had shattered itself into countless pieces. I never had the chance before to actually practice the ‘infinite fist’ but it surely looked as if I’d mastered the trick behind it. The light I’d seen earlier now shone unobscured. The source of this light was a small jewel mounted at the chest section of a cuirass, made from finely crafted Stalhrim of course.
,,Boots, helmet, greaves, gauntlets, shield and a cuirass. That looks like everything. Well, time to head back, I guess.” I nodded to myself, hurried back to the cold snow outside, pulled the Wing out of my new toy and jumped on it.

While the Wing is a fast machine, travelling from one end of the island to the other still takes time. Enough time for me to reflect upon my last meeting with Tharsten. My journey had provided me with some nice armour, a prophecy, a bag and a sense of identity. But it was obvious to me that he had only ordered me to travel in Aevar’s footsteps so I wouldn’t be in the village. He was frightened of something, but of what? With my thoughts running around in circles, I gazed up at the red moons in the night sky. They’d had this colour for as long as I remembered, yet something felt wrong. Like a cold chill that wasn’t there before. A chill that was colder than the frozen land.

,,Think, Ro-El. Tharsten wanted you to be gone. Normally, he would be overjoyed at your return but he wasn’t. So think, what is scaring the crap out of the Skaal? Or better yet, what can scare the crap out of them? It’s not the ashstorm. Apart from the fact that the cloud hasn’t moved in a while there is the fact that some dust won’t scare them, not till the dust transforms into an army of monsters.” I reasoned with myself. A wolf howled below me. Finally, I concluded that worrying would take me nowhere. I would simply have to ask them. Just as the Skaal village appeared at the edge of my vision, the wolf howled again, soon to be followed by others.
,,Looks like there’s a pack of wolves out there. Guess that means the deer population will be lowered tonight.”

[Lord Revan]

For some insane reason, I do not think those are normal wolves........

[minque]

The stones....yes..I remember going through that. It´s tricky, really. You describe it very well indeed!