Blood on the Moon, A Journey of Discovery Options

[Grits]

Making a medicine bag of tokens from the Skaal hunters is a gesture that makes the possibility of his becoming chieftain seem natural. I’m sure Athlain didn’t learn that from dad.

Still, I could not help but recall that, on those few occasions when I had contemplated my (no doubt heroic) demise, caves had not figured anywhere in my imagining. Neither had snow and ice, for that matter. It seemed to me that it should be enough to die facing some great evil, without adding discomfort into the equation.

This part has that wry flavor that I love, so I was smiling. Then I had to read the next lines:

I had seen so much death in the last year that my own no longer felt distant or unimaginable. In fact, I did not particularly fear death any more. But I did fear dying stupidly- and alone.

several times, because they delivered that moment in Athlain’s mind with perfect clarity.

For the last paragraph, I second mALX’s WOO HOO!

[Khajiit_Thief01]

These last few portions have been an absolute joy to read. Your ability to convey Athlain's sense of duty and honor even as he deals with a sense of devastating loss is simply astounding. Bravo, and well done!

I am very interested to see how Athlain deals with the Udyrfrykte--and if Athynae will make it to his aid in time. It's a long way from Ald-Ruhn to Solstheim, much longer than it is from Thirsk to the Udyrfrykte's Lair. I worry that she may not make it in time to aid or, if necessary, save our young Legion hero. The anticipation is killing me!

Again, great job! I look forward to more!

[treydog]

@haute- There will be a bit of Athynae in this one. After this- well, time will tell. The taking of something from each of the dead was one of those happy accidents. Svenja does encourage the player character to take the boots- Athlain decided to carry that to a logical conclusion.

@Black Hand- Yes, the translation is either the one from the UESP Wiki… Or else it is the “Underwear Monster,” as would-be heroes soil theirs upon seeing him…

Sorry about the tea- but Athynae is rather direct in her approach to things- and gets rather tired of Athlain’s dithering and dallying. “One remaining fan?” Really? Hey now!

@Olen- I debated that line for some time, as this is a dark moment in the story. But- yes, it is very much in keeping with Athlain’s way of coping. Thank you for your appreciation of the Athynae scene- she is essential to this story and to Athlain’s continued survival. And yes, there will be more of her- soon, I hope.

@Athynae- And there she is! My predictive powers are as intact as Jean Dixon’s! Athlain seems to think when he should act- and act when he should think. Perhaps he needs someone to look after him…?

@mALX- Thank you so much. And poetry, too! As a matter of fact, there may be a bit of that in the near future also.

@minque- We have “lived in” each other’s stories for so long it is no surprise that I can predict Serene’s actions- sometimes. Mostly, though, it is because you have made her so vivid and real. And yes, I think Serene understands that her oldest daughter needs to do this.

@Grits- You are correct about the source of the medicine bag- our young Legionnaire has “gone native” in some ways. As to the humor, followed by the somber thought- I think I have been reading about a certain Nord who displays those qualities quite well. And yes- Athynae is not waiting any longer- she is going to help Athlain whether he wants her to or not.

@Khajiit_Thief- My thanks to you for your kind words. As to the time/distance issue, you are correct. As for Athlain versus the Unmentionable, you need wait no longer.

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The trail was easy to follow; deep tracks and spatters of blood marked a straight path toward the shore of the lake, where the column of fire was still visible. I shifted my shoulders irritably at the reminder of the Skaal test. I would do what I must- but I would do it on my own terms. The very first test they had set me- with the Ritual of the Gifts- had been a test of loyalty. And so was this.

When I reached the edge of the lake, I saw that the tracks entered a low mound of stones and earth, capped by old ice, which even then was melting away. And I could feel the warmth of the fire upon the water. Fresh blood and a couple of broken arrow shafts decorated the entry to the noisome tunnel. When I examined the arrows, I saw that the fletching was Svenja’s- proof that some of her missiles had found their mark. Beyond that, the only blessing I could find was the fact that the sun penetrated some distance into the cave, and seemed to reflect from the ice-covered walls. That was well, for I preferred not to try juggling a lantern or torch along with my mace and shield, while also attempting to stay alive. I supposed I could carry a light source in my teeth, but did not care for the risk of setting my hair on fire. Though I was not vain about my hair, baldness did not appeal to me. The need for light was just another of those small details the adventure tales forgot to mention- unless the hero was somehow blessed with the ability to see in the dark.

That thought set me to wondering if perhaps the intrusion of sunlight into its lair was part of what had so enraged the darkness-dwelling Udyrfrykte. But, in the same moment, I realized that I was simply delaying- and more to the point, I did not care. Whether the murderous attack on Thirsk was the result of some ancient wrong or of a motiveless malignity- the people who died had been my friends. My feet had been set upon this path from the first moment I entered Thirsk and was granted guest-right. In the midst of my depressing thoughts, I seemed to hear Athynae’s exasperated voice somewhere just behind my head:

“You’re thinking too much- and about the WRONG things! If you get yourself killed, I WILL find a way to bring you back, just so I can kill you myself. Now do what you must, so you can return to me.”

It was so real that I turned, expecting to find her standing nearby, arms folded and a frown on her face. But the only thing moving nearby was the ungainly form of a horker. I eyed the creature suspiciously, but it simply undulated to a hole in the ice and disappeared, showing no sign of the power of speech.

Nevertheless, whoever had admonished me had been correct; I did not have time for introspection or distractions. I edged into the cave entrance, into a world of twilight gloom and an awful odor. The smell was beyond my power to describe- a combination of ice and death and something far worse- a fetid animal scent that turned my stomach. Breathing shallowly through my mouth, I saw that the tunnel followed a straight path, down and to the west. Old bones rolled and crunched beneath my feet, and I shortened my steps, fearful of falling in a great clatter of arms and armor. Twenty steps or so into the cave, I began to hear a sound, repeated at intervals. It was a muffled, angry grunting and screeching, combined of equal parts rage and pain. At last, I saw a dark shape moving near the end of the cavern.

Perhaps my earlier speculation had been correct, and the beast was akin to the trolls of the mainland. In any event, in the few moments I had, I saw a creature that walked upright, but was larger than a man, and covered with coarse, dark fur. A number of arrows stuck out of its back, and it frequently turned its head and snapped fanged jaws at them. In its right hand it carried what I first thought was a crude club, but then recognized as a severed human leg. Even as I watched, it brought the grisly object to its mouth and tore at the flesh. The sight caused me to release a hiss of disgust and horror, and the monster turned glowing green eyes in my direction. Waving the leg wildly, it bellowed a challenge that shook ice from the walls and roof of the tunnel. Then it charged.

When I fought the Grahl in the Halls of Penumbra, I had been awed and humbled by its magnificence. So, too, had I felt about the spriggans at Raven Rock. Those creatures were avatars of nature, and I was the intruder. But the Udyrfrykte gave me no such feeling. It was loathsome and unnatural, a monster in all senses of the term- and one that had outlived its allotted span. Even so, I was glad that Svenja’s arrows had done their work- if the beast had been hale, I do not think I would have survived.

It swung the severed leg in a wild arc, using its free hand to try and drag me within range of its massive fangs. I blocked the leg with my shield, tilting it so the force was dissipated, and swatted the grasping fingers with Athynae’s Gift. The creature snatched the injured hand back and screeched at me in frustration. It was massive and terribly strong, but also slow. Not only the arrows, but an overstuffed belly made the beast sluggish. I gritted my teeth and tried not to think of what it had dined upon.

Speed. Speed was the key. I kept moving, circling, forcing the Udyrfrykte to turn with me, causing the arrows to damage and bleed it further. I could not allow it to take hold of me- if it ever did, I would be torn to pieces. The leg thudded soddenly against my shield, but I ignored the nausea-inducing sound and concentrated on my own attacks. As much as I wanted to drive a thundering blow into the hideous maw, I focused instead on the arms and legs. They were vulnerable, and I could strike them while staying almost out of reach. Better still, due to the enchantment on my mace, every blow strengthened me while weakening the creature.

At last, it swung the leg at me with more frustration than art, and the force of the swing turned it halfway around. I dropped to one knee, angling my shield over me, and smashed a backhand blow against the monster’s knee. As it crashed to the ground, I scrambled clear, then darted in to rain additional blows upon its awful head. In truth, I perhaps continued to attack long after the need was past. Then I staggered away and retched in a corner, shuddering as the fear and adrenaline left me, along with the bile in my throat.

When I recovered, I looked around the cave, and what I found put paid to any lingering doubts I might have had. The chamber was littered with old bones, and the creature’s… nest… held dozens of skulls. There was no way to know how many victims the Udyrfrykte had claimed over the years. I examined the corpse, recalling Svenja’s request that I bring back a trophy. Although the ostensible reason to do so was to claim leadership of Thirsk, it was still more important to prove that the terror was over. Somehow I knew that Svenja would never rest if she was not sure the monster was dead. From my experience with the Skaal, I knew that the normal practice was to take the head of a slain enemy. However, my overly enthusiastic “making sure” had turned that into an impossibility. Nevertheless, the purpose of the trophy was to prove the opponent was dead. Therefore, I drew the dagger from behind my neck and claimed my proof.

Svenja had not been idle in my absence; when I approached the mead hall, she was nailing boards across the ruined doorway. She turned red-rimmed eyes upon me and said,

“I have laid out the bodies of the slain, and will transport them to the barrow. In the meantime, no one may enter Thirsk until….”

She stopped as her eyes fell upon the gory sack I held. Her voice grew stronger and some of the old light came back to her face.

“You have slain the Udyrfrykte? And returned with a trophy?”

I spilled out the beast’s heart upon the snow and she stared at it for some time, then picked it up and raised it high.

“By the great god Shor, you are a true warrior! I will send for builders to restore Thirsk, and will place the heart upon the pedestal. But there is one more task you must perform before you become the new chieftain.”

She looked at me expectantly and I tried to explain that I was not sure that I wanted to become the new chieftain. Svenja’s face grew still and she spoke in a low voice.

“If there is no chieftain, Thirsk will disappear. All the history, all the songs, stories, and games will fade from memory. There will be nowhere for the Skaal to shelter from the cold. There will be nowhere for me to call home.”

The last sentence was a nearly inaudible whisper that melted my heart. She had lost almost everything, had single-handedly driven away the monster that murdered her clan, had seen to their needs in death as well as life. And now, she only wanted to be allowed to continue the life she had chosen. I placed a hand on her shoulder and said,

“Very well. What must I do to ensure that Thirsk survives?”

Svenja smiled at me and said, “Seek the barrow of our first chieftain, Hrothmund the Red.”

When I repeated the name, she said, “Ah, you know it already? That is well. Every new chieftain must receive the approval of Hrothmund’s spirit. Inside the barrow is his great war axe. Place your hands on the haft and state your intention to take over Thirsk. If he finds you worthy, Hrothmund will give you his blessing. Seek the eye of the wolf, Athlain.”

She turned to look at the ruined hall and added, “While you do that, I will hire builders. I know you have other tasks, but please do not wait too long. Have no fear- I will know when you are done- it will be borne to me on the wind. Then it will be time for feasting and celebration. But for now, the chill air speaks only of sorrow and death.”

[Black Hand]

Well done, sir! Well done. I liked the description of the leg smashing against the shield. Lol, when I first found that thing on the XBox like five years ago, I laughed so hard...I blame television....

[Athynae]

Deep sigh, he's safe for the moment, I'm trying to get there as fast as I can, please don't do anything stupid. I can feel your depression, please pull yourself out of it.

This is wonderful Treydog, everything I always expect from you.

[haute ecole rider]

And here I am thinking of the song of Beowulf! Wonderful parallels to that old classic, but with an Athlain twist. And yes, death stinks, and a full belly does slow one down. So does fluff between the ears. I'm glad Athlain survived this with nothing more than an upset stomach (though that's bad enough).

The comment about the torch and baldness caused me to laugh, recalling Athynae's threats of a balding spell on this forum. Seems to me both you and Athlain share the same - uh - respect for that particular condition!

[Athynae]

As well they should!!!! neither of them would look particularly appealing sans their locks.

[Olen]

I would do what I must- but I would do it on my own terms. The very first test they had set me- with the Ritual of the Gifts- had been a test of loyalty. And so was this.

I had wondered which he would persue first. This line explained perfectly and succinctly and just really worked for me. Far better than half a page of introspection might have, you have a character strong enough that I can guess the rest. But it also says something else to me - although Captain Carius vanished quite some time ago Athlain is still under orders from the Legion to find him. When his loyalties collode he went with Thrisk and his friends. Perhaps he has gone native, and perhaps he's more like his father than he knows.

I also picked up on the baldness line - it made me grin.

I perhaps continued to attack long after the need was past

This seems to be a habit. Again perhaps he's more like the natives than he knows, there's a bit of the beserker there.

Good part, the fight was well executed and I loved the descriptio of the lair. And now he's cheiftan of a mead hall - what ever would his mother say?

[treydog]

Author's Note: As my long-suffering readers know, I do not normally "post-machine" my story thread. However, this is a special occasion- for a number of reasons. The following will be a "guest-post" from Athynae, written by herself. Therefore, it will be different than the other Athynae moments so far, in that it is written from her perspective in first person. OK- enough throat-clearing- here she is.

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I gathered my supplies, trying to think of everything I could possibly need but not wanting to go overboard. I recalled Athlain’s remark about my “need to bring an entire apothecary shop” with me. Of course, the last time I had found him- he was about to starve to death in the snow. Still, there was no knowing how far I would have to actually carry it all, and ingredients weighed less than potion bottles. And he would probably need healing when I reached him- one way or another.

As I was closing the top of the pack, I looked to the desk and Mother’s journal. Our conversation was not what I had expected, and then she had to leave to take care of pressing matters with the council. She gave me her journal and said she knew I would have questions, but for now it was a good place to start. I did read some of it, about her being in prison and how she came to know my Father. How she became a Blade. The most surprising part was the relationship between her and Uncle Seth. I think I had always known there was more to that than met the eye.

I had read up until she became the Archmaster of Redoran and then- I couldn’t go on. Something pressed in upon me like a weight on my chest and I had to stop. I hadn’t touched the journal since then, but I reached to pick it up, wrapped it carefully in a spare tunic, and tucked it in my pack. I knew the pages to come would reveal information that would change everything. I don’t know how I knew that; I just felt it- as clearly as I felt the firelight glow of Athlain to the north and east. Even the little I had read, discovering how close she once was to Uncle Seth, was- a little unsettling, too.

Who was Uncle Seth? All I really knew about him was what I had gleaned from his running in and ducking out, sometimes staying for days and sometimes only long enough to talk to Mother and Father. He had spent some time with me, teaching me how to use weapons but only briefly, imparting more wisdom than technique, or so it had seemed. I needed to know more, but who could tell me besides the people I didn’t want ask? In fact, I did not even want them to know that I was asking. I thought of Uncle Trey, knowing he wouldn’t betray my confidence. I even wrote him a note, but then I paused. The last time I had seen him he seemed so sad. How could I add to his burdens? So I ripped up the note and burned the scraps. Mae and Cai were dear friends- but they were also worse than Mother when it came to finding things out.

As I thought of Trey, I had an epiphany. He had an enormous library; maybe there was something there. I carried my gear down the hall and slipped quietly into Uncle Trey’s office. The books lined the walls like tiles in a palace, floor to ceiling. Where should I start? There had to be some sort of organization. I stepped behind his desk and looked at the room as he would when he was seated. There was a shorter shelf within easy reach from the chair, and the books it contained were in a variety of sizes and bindings, with hand-written titles on their spines. It appeared that these were the tomes that were “personal.” Alongside the Story of Trey and- I gave a start- Serene of Cyrodiil- there was a set of well-worn volumes entitled Memoirs of a Morag Tong Assassin by Sethyas Velas. It amazed me that the almost excessively private Uncle Seth had not only written a memoir, but that he had allowed anyone to see it. The only question now was how much or how little he might have revealed.

I tucked the books into my pack and penned a short note which I left on the desk.

Uncle Trey:

I borrowed a few of your books, I hope you don’t mind. I will take good care of them- I promise.

Love, ‘Thyna

A silt-strider ride later and I was setting sail for Solstheim to find Athlain. Impatiently, I waited for the cargo to be stowed, praying to Azura that I would be in time. Athlain had always been impulsive- and he seemed to believe he had to do everything himself. My fears for him and my questions about Mother swirled in my head, going around and around until I thought I might scream. I would rather be fighting the monsters on Solstheim than dealing with all that had engulfed my mind in those last few months. Fighting was always second nature; I never had to think, just moved, like a dance I had practiced a thousand times. Even if the beat changed I still knew the steps. This was going to be a long journey if I could not find some way to calm my thoughts.

I stood at the prow of the ship staring out over the sea. The water splashing against the side of the ship, the waves rolling ashore, echoed the pounding of the pulse in my temples. In desperation, I pushed my thoughts outward- northward, hoping against hope that he could “hear” me.

Please Athlain, be careful. I am coming; just don’t do anything stupid. I swear if you get yourself killed I will bring you back to life so I can kill you again!

At last, the sailors pulled the anchor and hoisted the trim sails to carry us out of the harbor, and then the main sail rode the mast and expanded like a white wing as the wind caught. Finally I felt like I was getting somewhere, but it still wasn’t fast enough. I paced the decks like a chained kagouti and the sailors avoided my gaze. My hands itched to draw my katana or to string my bow- but what then?

Then I remembered the reading material I had packed. I could stand there staring at the lovely sameness or I could use the time to learn more about Uncle Seth and his “attachment” to my family. I returned to my small but comfortable cabin, located next to the captain’s. There were times when I was glad to be the daughter of Athyn and Serene Sarethi. I bolted the door behind me and removed my armor down to my tunic, then took out Uncle Seth’s Memoirs and climbed onto the bunk. Taking a deep breath, I prepared to read about the man that I knew had once spent time in the arms of my Mother.

I read and read and read some more, through a roiling storm that should have had me curled up with the chamber pot but I was so consumed with Seth’s story that I barely noticed the roll and toss of the ship. In fact, it angered me more than anything because the erratic movements made me lose my place on the page. There were times in his tale that I felt as if I were there beside him, encouraging him with a soft whisper in his ear:

“You aren’t alone.”

Other times I could have punched him- just like I had Athlain on more than one occasion- and for similar reasons. It was easy to praise his skill when the fight was done, but sometimes in the midst of the descriptions I caught myself screaming at him:

“NO!!!! Slide and duck! Spin! NOW STRIKE!!!”

But no matter how much I yelled, it didn’t change his moves, and thankfully my directions weren’t needed. He knew what he was doing; I think I only did it because the stories were so vivid and the feeling of helplessness reminded me of my fears for Athlain.

I knew Uncle Seth was the Grand Master of the Morag Tong; it was one of those “secrets” that wasn’t much of a secret at all. But somehow I don’t think the truth of what it meant had penetrated until I saw it come together in words penned by his own hand. And there was more: how much he had aided Uncle Trey and Mother as they saw the prophecies fulfilled, and how he was responsible for her final revenge against Varus Vantinius. I was totally caught up in his life’s story and the respect that I had always had for him was joined by reverence. How could he have done all of those things and still be just Uncle Seth to me?

Truth be told, after reading every word once and most of them twice, I was left with as many questions as before. Every answer spawned a dozen mysteries. And I still wasn’t ready to read Mother’s journal. I fell into a fitful slumber, wondering- What now?

This post has been edited by treydog: Jul 10 2011, 05:05 AM

[Black Hand]

: 0

Im actually speechless!

[haute ecole rider]

What a wonderful peek inside the head of a delightful young lady! I quite enjoyed her perspective and hearing about a few wonderful books. And yes, I know what she means about shouting at Uncle Seth to spin faster, duck lower, and strike harder. That's the mark of a good tale.

[mALX]

*

GAAAAH! I just made the connection ... Svenja, whose bones are found inside the Uderfryke in Oblivion !!!! Urg!

expecting to find her standing nearby, arms folded and a frown on her face

This brought an instant vision of Vilja with a red wig on, ROFL !!! Well, except it lacks the word, "GLARING!" ROFL !!

The creature snatched the injured hand back and screeched at me in frustration. It was massive and terribly strong, but also slow. Not only the arrows, but an overstuffed belly made the beast sluggish. I gritted my teeth and tried not to think of what it had dined upon.

This paragraph above all the rest epitomizes the scene.

In truth, I perhaps continued to attack long after the need was past.

Not sure if out of fear or rage, maybe both. I pictured Athlain doing that even before reading this sentence.

I will know when you are done- it will be borne to me on the wind. Then it will be time for feasting and celebration. But for now, the chill air speaks only of sorrow and death.”

Powerful and poignient!


***


@ Athynae - WHEW !!! I couldn't stop to quote a single line because this chapter held me riveted to the page from beginning to end !! I'd have to quote the whole and spam the thread !! The mystery deepens is putting it lightly, I felt like I suddenly knew something ... and just as suddenly felt like a deep chasm of things I didn't know had just opened before me !!! AWESOME WRITE !!!!!


*

[Athynae]

Thanks guys!!! You have no idea how much your words mean to me. After an extended amount of time in a sort of suspended animation I feel as if the sun finally touched my face.

Trey thank you doesn't quite cover it, but I'm pretty sure you know. I feel I am beginning to learn the intricacies of the dance. I owe you so much.

This post has been edited by Athynae: Jul 10 2011, 05:55 AM

[Olen]

I must say that worked extremely well. The change in tone fitted the change in PoV and was exactly what I imagined for Athynae. Nicely done. It ties the piece in with the backstories well too and keeps the depth of the world going, not just through the scope of this story but of the others too.

The glimpse of old Trey having seemed sad worked for me too. It served as a reminder that it's not just Athlain who's been having a hard time.

I wonder where she'll catch up with him...

[Khajiit_Thief01]

Well done, as always, Treydog! This part below especially spoke to me:

“If there is no chieftain, Thirsk will disappear. All the history, all the songs, stories, and games will fade from memory. There will be nowhere for the Skaal to shelter from the cold. There will be nowhere for me to call home.”

The last sentence was a nearly inaudible whisper that melted my heart. She had lost almost everything, had single-handedly driven away the monster that murdered her clan, had seen to their needs in death as well as life. And now, she only wanted to be allowed to continue the life she had chosen. I placed a hand on her shoulder and said,

“Very well. What must I do to ensure that Thirsk survives?”

You do a magnificant job of once again reminding us of the sense of loss that has resulted from The Unmentionable's rampage, as well as the immense amount of compassion Athlain possesses. It goes much deeper than his sense of Legion honor--these people are family now, and he simply cannot fathom refusing the Skaal woman's request because of this. This part tugged at my heartstrings.

As far as Athynae's part, I can only echo what others have said--it was an extremely enjoyable read, and brilliantly conveys the feelings of worry that the young woman possesses during such a difficult time. Her musings about "Uncle Trey" were among my favorite parts of the piece--especially the note she left behind for him after taking his books. She better hope they don't get wet and soggy in that Solstheim snow, otherwise Trey may have a heart attack!

[Acadian]

A powerfully poignant telling of Svenja's plight and the tragedy at Thirsk. I just know Athlain will help 'fix it'. (Just don't challenge anyone else to a duel).

And it was simply wonderful to be inside dear Athynae's head for an episode! Congratulations Athynae and thank you for sharing your talent!

This post has been edited by Acadian: Jul 11 2011, 02:20 AM

[minque]

OK so I'm speechless...and that's very uncommon for being me! Since I never encountered the Udyrfrykte it was amazing to read about Athlain's deed. Now he could easily have been killed though!

And Athynae, yes I felt a pain in my chest reading your post, you see there must be something special about you,( and treydoogie which I already know ) You depict Thyna totally wonderful, right, she may be my idea from the start BUT you and trey made her what she actually is and gah you made a great young lady! Exactly as I want her to be!

There is just ONE thing to add......


S.G.M

Still speechless.....

[Athynae]

I am so glad you are home safe and sound!!!! I am so sorry that I missed you, I think........I don't know what to say actually. I have to go help Athlain Mother, I just hope you understand. We will talk when I get home, maybe by then I'll be able to think straight.

[minque]

I am so glad you are home safe and sound!!!! I am so sorry that I missed you, I think........I don't know what to say actually. I have to go help Athlain Mother, I just hope you understand. We will talk when I get home, maybe by then I'll be able to think straight.

Why of course! I would not want anything else, I know you can help him out, you're MY daughter above all, and I also know you have other inherited skills....

yes dear, more questions will arise I know, but still, be yourself and do what you have to do. You know I'm always proud of you even if you sometimes don't believe that. And I'll always be there for you sweetie!

[Athynae]

I know Mother, it is never far from my thoughts or my heart, but what did you mean by "other inherited traits"? Never mind, I don't think I want to know yet, there's too many other thoughts running through my head right now. I am almost to Solsteim and Athlain, praying to Azura that I will be able to let all of this go and focus on the task at hand.