Rashelle At Solstheim, bloodmoon fanfic Options

[Gaius Maximus]

So we approach conclusion, eh? There's only not a large number of things to do now for Rashelle.But there's still one more to be kidnapped, right. I almost forgot...

[jack cloudy]

The no fryse hags keeps nagging me. Why did they vanish all of a sudden? But then, maybe they simply ran out of swordfodder to hurl at Rashelle.

[Dire Cheesecake]

The no fryse hags keeps nagging me. Why did they vanish all of a sudden? But then, maybe they simply ran out of swordfodder to hurl at Rashelle.

Yes damn it! And no actual info at all! The suspense is killing me! She slaughtered a whole bunch of them before and after the one she spared, and that one appeared before her once then vanished... did she meet any more after that? GAR! Suspense! Hurk, bleh!

This post has been edited by Dire Cheesecake: Aug 25 2007, 08:28 AM

[Gaius Maximus]

The no fryse hags keeps nagging me. Why did they vanish all of a sudden? But then, maybe they simply ran out of swordfodder to hurl at Rashelle.

Yes damn it! And no actual info at all! The suspense is killing me! She slaughtered a whole bunch of them before and after the one she spared, and that one appeared before her once then vanished... did she meet any more after that? GAR! Suspense! Hurk, bleh!

What bugs me most that from time to time it will be said something about seeing no Fryse Hags! This might mean there is something in store for them, but what?

Let me quote you here: GAR! Suspense! Hurk, bleh!

[Dire Cheesecake]

Well yes, with the repetition of "no Fryse Hags" I was sure we would finally get a hint. But no! We are doomed to wait for another delicious update in suspense! DOOMED I say!

I suppose it's just Rashelle finally noticing what I've been noticing for some time now. Then again, less people trying to kill you and less people you have to kill is probably a good thing... isn't it?

This post has been edited by Dire Cheesecake: Aug 25 2007, 12:54 PM

[jack cloudy]

While unnervin, I agree it is a good thing.

Constantly resharping your blade becomes a bother real soon, ya know? (Ok, that is admittedly not the right argument.)

[Gaius Maximus]

While unnervin, I agree it is a good thing.

Constantly resharping your blade becomes a bother real soon, ya know? (Ok, that is admittedly not the right argument.)

Oh yes. The right argument would be:

The Repair Hammers you have to carry around for instant repairing weight tons. They slow you down greatly...

[Dire Cheesecake]

Then there's is the small matter of Rashelle not liking it when people try to kill her and she has to kill them to avoid it. But that's only a small matter.

[blockhead]

Chapter 19. Mead



There was a deafening cheer. They were cheering for me ... the new chieftain of Thirsk. I had not expected this. It was logical in retrospect, but at that moment I was frozen in astonishment.

I turned to see that Kolfinna was grinning at my amazement. I had to be gaping like an idiot. I closed my mouth.

Svenja rushed over and hugged me. She pulled away and I then raised a hand for silence.

"Svenja Snow-Song," I said in a voice loud enough to be heard by all, "in many ways you would have made better chieftain than I. You run this place efficiently and no one knows the day-to-day operations like you do."

The people cheered: good.

After pausing to wait for silence again, I continued: "I name you my second in command. All shall obey your orders as if they were mine."

She blushed and the crowd cheered, louder. Good.

I gestured to Kolfinna.

"Everyone, this is Kolfinna. Her husband was recently slain and she has been living in the wilderness by herself. I've invited her to live here at Thirsk. I expect we can find a place for her and start her off on her new life."

More cheering. An easy crowd.

"Lastly, thank you all for the wonderful and quick job that was done on the rebuilding. That is all."

They cheered again.

I walked towards the back of the room. The chieftain's throne had been rebuilt. On a small pedestal near the chair was a desiccated heart. This had to be the heart of the Udyrfrykte. I thought it a disgusting display, but who was I to argue with tradition?

Svenja gestured towards the chair. The room became silent. I must admit that I was more than a little hesitant. This was silly: as I was already the chieftain, I should not have been afraid to sit on the throne. Even so, it was with a feeling of trepidation that I approached it. I turned and looked out at the people. Focus Rashelle, focus. Svenja reached out gave my arm a squeeze.

I sat down. All in the room cheered.

I noticed a Breton man in the corner, the one with the buzzy voice who I had met on the day of the attack. He was furiously scribbling on a sheet of paper.

"He's a writer," said Svenja quietly, so that none could hear. "He's been writing a history of Thirsk. He bugs everyone for interviews. He has been here for months. He's silly and a bit over enthusiastic and asks way too many questions. The little fetcher is harmless, so we tolerate him."

I nodded. A good leader needs a good advisor and I strongly suspected that I had the best.

I rose from the throne and gestured for Svenja and Kolfinna to follow me. I led them to the bar at the back. As it was too early for drinking, we three were alone. This was a good thing, as I intended that we would have a private chat. Alas, this was not to be: I saw that the Breton man was walking in our direction.

"Svenja, could you please go and find a place for Kolfinna?"

"Certainly. Kolfinna?"

Kolfinna nodded. Svenja led her away from the bar.

The Breton reached me. I silently stared.

"Greetings, mighty chieftain," he said in that loud buzzing voice, "I am Bereditte Jastal!"

I was reminded of small children, how they speak loudly or not at all. Perhaps this man had never learned how to control his voice?

"Rashelle."

I was tempted to remark how rare it was to see a Breton here, but I did not: after all, I was also a Breton.

"This is all very exciting! You see, I've been researching Thirsk and I have been compiling a history!"

I raised an eyebrow.

"My father spent some time here in Thirsk, before I was born. When I was a child, he used to entertain me with stories of this place! As I grew up, I knew that I would have to come here!"

Perhaps it was not so much that his voice was loud, but that he was so relentlessly excited about everything.

"Did you know that you are not the first Breton woman to be the chieftain? Yes, it is true: Amelie Bontecou was chieftain and ruled for three years! She became chieftain by slaying Grjotgaror, a Nord man who was the previous chieftain!"

"What do you know of the Fryse Hags?" I asked. At this point, he was probably the only one on the island I had yet to ask. Despite his odd mannerisms, he seemed to be a knowledgeable person. He might actually know something about them.

"Oh, the Ice Witches? Not much! They used to be a healing order some centuries ago! Their headquarters is somewhere west or northwest, possibly up in riekling territory! They're not very interesting so I never bothered to learn more than that!"

For not knowing much, this man had just doubled my information.

"Ah," he added as he gestured towards my bare arms, "Don't you get cold, dressed like that?"

Actually, in parts of Vvardenfell, this armor would get very warm. A sunny day in the Ashlands always turned the ebony into a hot iron. Had I not worn a sleeveless shirt under the cuirass, I would have been branded by the hot metal.

"No. I enjoy the climate here."

"Ah, anyway ... I've written a history of Thirsk! I've got to update it to include you and then I'll give you a free copy!"

Oh, rapture!

He was scribbling something on the paper, so he did not notice my smirk.

"Tell me," I asked, "have you written other books?"

"Oh yes, several! I've even got copies of some of them for sale!"

I imagine that my eyes began to glaze over.

"I've even got copies of my famous academic treatise 'Sovngarde, a Reexamination' for sale!"

Had I been a Khajiit, my ears would have pricked up.

"How much?"

He was actually silent for a few breaths. Apparently a person desiring to buy a book from him was a rare occurrence.

"Only 75 septims! I can even autograph it for you! No extra charge!"

With difficulty, I refrained from rolling my eyes. I counted out the specified amount and gave it to him.

"It's in my room! I'll fetch it now!"

"I'll come with you and see what other books you've got."

"Ha ha, hubba hubba! In my room!" he rolled his eyes suggestively.

Quicker than thought, my hand darted out and twisted his ear.

"Ow ow! I mean, mighty chieftain, I will show you the books and it will all be very proper and genteel!"

I let go and said, "Lead on."

We went upstairs.

In his room were many books, as well as a large quantity of papers. I feared it would become a fire hazard.

"Ah, yes, here we go!"

He handed me a suspiciously light volume.

"A bit thin, isn't it?"

"Yet it concisely has all of the relevant information!" he said, proudly.

I opened the book. At least it had been printed. Good: handwriting can be difficult to decipher and my gut feeling was that this man would have terrible penmanship.

"Thank you, muthsera."

I perused the other books he had for sale, but found nothing else of interest. I left his room and found Svenja in the hallway.

"Rashelle, I've put Kolfinna in that room."

She pointed towards one of the doors.

"Thank you, Svenja. I hope that she isn't a burden. I just felt so sorry for her, losing her husband and living all alone. I felt I had to do something."

"You did a good thing, Rashelle."

I grinned.

"Come with me," she said.

She led me down the hallway and to another door. She took out a key and opened the door. She entered the room and lit a candle. I stepped into the room. It was larger than the other rooms in Thirsk. I remember that I had been here once before, when I was searching for stranded people after the Udyrfrykte attack. It was now less cluttered. The room was furnished with a chest of drawers, a bed, a small table by the bed, upon which was the now-lit candle, a bear skin rug and a stack of crates.

"Those are temporary: a shipment of mead that we could not find a spot for. They will be moved as soon as possible."

I nodded.

"This is the chieftain's room, newly refurbished. It is your room."

She lowered her gaze and asked shyly: "Do you like it?"

My own room in Thirsk! Of course the chieftain would get a room: it was obvious in retrospect but I had not thought about that until then.

"Oh Svenja, it's wonderful!"

She beamed.

She waved towards the door: apparently she had other things to show me. I stepped into the hallway. I heard her blow the candle out and she then joined me. She locked the door and handed me the key.

"There are two keys: I've got the other one."

"Good."

I followed her down the stairs. She led me outside and then turned to the right. I realized that she was taking me to see the smith. Of course: it would be a bit rude for a new chieftain to not visit him! I had not thought of that but Svenja had: she indeed should have been the chieftain.

After we chatted with the smith, whose name was Brynjolfr, Svenja led me towards the front of the mead hall.

"Now, Rashelle, we should discuss business."

"At the Lake," I said, before she could open either of the doors.

She raised an eyebrow.

I motioned to the lake and took a step. She nodded.

Soon we were on the ice again, playing with the horkers.

"Rashelle, as you already know, part of the income of Thirsk is generated by the sale of snow wolf and snow bear pelts. Generally, every chieftain takes a percentage of the revenue for themselves. How much do you want?"

"None, Svenja: put the profits back into Thirsk."

I rubbed a horker's belly and it groaned in pleasure.

"Rashelle, I know that you are the wandering type. I know you like to explore. You will be away from Thirsk for weeks or months at a time."

I nodded: this was true.

"I am glad that you understand that," I said. "I have already made you second in command: when I am away you can do whatever you think needs to be done, however you want to do it."

She nodded. Her horker groaned happily as she rubbed its belly.

We spent several hours on the lake. Svenja had a lot of things to teach me about Thirsk. The operation of a mead hall was more complex than I would have imagined, and I was ignorant of most of their customs. She did her best to fill me in.

"The sun is setting," she said. "We should go back."

"Agreed, and I am getting hungry."

We left our horker friends and returned to the mead hall.

Upon entering the building, I saw that the party was already in progress.

A man was singing "... in the cave she met the beast, and cut quite short its awwwwfull feast!" He went on and it soon became apparent that he was singing about me!

"Food for the chieftain!" someone shouted. That sounded like a good plan to me.

I was soon seated at one of the tables (as I did not want to balance a plate on the arm of the throne) tearing into a frost boar steak.

"Mead?"

I hesitated. I had never tried mead before. But hey, it was mead hall, right? And I was the chieftain. As my mouth was still full, I could only nod silently.

A tankard was placed in my hand. I took a sip. It was horrible: truly nasty and vile, a foul-tasting liquid. I forced a smile to my face. I swallowed and then said; "Excuse me, I'll be right back."

Carrying the mead with me, I found Svenja.

"Svenja, this seems funny to me. Could you taste it please?"

I handed her my tankard. She took a swallow.

"Mmmmmmm, mead. Mead's my drink! Rectifies the humors and confuses the vermin!"

"So this has not gone bad?"

"Oh no, you've got good mead there."

"It tastes nasty to me. I guess it is an acquired taste."

"You mean you have never had mead before?"

I sheepishly shook my head.

She laughed, a great loud laugh from down in the belly.

"Oh, I am sorry Rashelle. The irony that the chieftain of the mead hall ... oh that's too much."

I grinned.

"Anyway," she said, "That mead is fine. No worries."

"Good to know. Thank you."

I returned to my seat. I could force the stuff down as long as I knew it was safe to do so, and Svenja had just assured me that it was. I did not want to put a damper on the party by refusing mead. More importantly, I was in the mood to get stinking drunk. It had been a while since I had done so. I was among friendly people in a safe place, and I was ready to party!

I gulped down the rest of the mead and, following the example of the people around me, banged the tankard on the table.

"Mead for the chieftain!"

Someone filled my tankard and I thanked them.

Upon draining my third tankard, I realized that something was wrong. I can normally hold my booze fairly well. Three mugs of ale or wine would have had me fuzzy and happy, yet still in control. Instead, I felt strange. I felt hot: very hot. This did not feel like inebriation at all.

"Lass, you're sweating!"

I put my hand to my face. It was true: my face was wet.

I was so hot: I felt like I was in a lava pit.

"I need to get outside!"

"Clear the way for the chieftain!"

As I walked towards the door, I became still hotter. I was having trouble thinking. I began to run: I had to get outside! I knocked someone aside: they were in my way!

I all but smashed one of the two doors from its hinges as as I emerged into the night air. I'm sure it was a normal cold night in Solstheim, but I was even hotter than I had been inside.

I reached down and dashed some snow in my face. I swear it melted straightaway. I threw myself down on the ground and rolled in the snow, but I was still burning up.

"Are you OK?" said a voice. Some people had gone outside, presumably to see if I was all right. I wasn't.

I screamed: the heat was too much. I was having trouble thinking and I was incapable of coherent speech.

"She she OK?" said a buzzing voice.

I growled and threw my pack off.

My hands fumbled with my cuirass. Someone tried to approach me and I slapped them away. I howled in agony and struggled to remove my cuirass. The intense heat had maddened me. I roared my frustration. I had to get it off!

Finally I was able to remove the accursed thing. I was still too hot. I yanked off my boots, then my greaves. I stripped naked: I was beyond modesty.

Somehow, Chrysamere was in my hands and I was running. I ran like the wind. Still, I was too hot. In the frigid night of Solstheim I ran, suffering from the intense heat.

I reached the lake and skidded out onto the ice. Maybe If I lay down and pressed myself against the ice I could finally be cool enough. Before I could attempt this, a horker slammed into me. Tusks dug into my leg but I did not feel any pain.

I growled and swung my blade, narrowly missing the horker. I raised my sword: my next stroke would cleave the beast in two. Dimly, memories of my happy times on the lake returned. Horkers had never attacked before. What nightmare world had I entered? Snarling, I backed away: I very much wanted to slay this creature, but some lingering memory fought to stay my hand. My sword trembled from my internal struggle.

The sound of menacing groans filled the air: other horkers were charging towards me, with obvious hostile intentions. Part of me wanted to lash out and slay them all, laughing the whole time. A small remaining dim ember of sanity made me turn and run away, away from the lake.

I was not thinking any more; I was more an animal. Things did not have names. My memories of my past were dim: there was only the present moment, and the heat ... the heat that would not stop ... and a rage. I wanted to slay everything that moved.

I tore through a riekling patrol. I saw a spriggan and killed her once. My claymore was arcing through the air even as she was coming to life again. I snarled as I killed her a third time.

I thought I saw Svenja. I began to ran towards her to slay her but something made me turn and run away. I screamed my frustration. Perhaps a small bit of my humanity remained, after all ... some fragment of a memory that Svenja was a friend.

Northwest, I raced. In retrospect, I believe that I ran in this direction because There would be far less people in that part of the island: I would only kill animals and rieklings, not Men.

This went on for hours. My memories are fuzzy save for one important thing: though it was a struggle, I did not kill any people aside from ... other berserkers.

The sun was rising as I was fighting a large group of rieklings: easily forty of them. While I am skilled with any melee weapon, there was no way that I could normally take on that many of the blue fetchers at once and live.

As I dispatched the last one, I began to feel tired. The oppressive heat was finally going away. I shook my head. This seemed to clear it. My awareness, my thoughts, returned to me. I was myself again. A cool breeze comforted me.

I was naked on the snow, standing near a castle made of ice. Later I was to learn that this was Castle Karstaag, where lived the ruler of the rieklings.

Aside from the gash in my leg, which I had received from the horker, I was uninjured: nothing else had been able to get though my guard. I cast a healing spell and the wound disappeared.

Sunrise was a time of Azura. Perhaps this had returned me to normal. Or perhaps the effects of the mead had simply worn off on their own.

"No ... more ... mead. Ever!" I said aloud.

For that night, I had been a berserker. Had something like this happened to Marisa? Was this why she was against mead?

I shifted my grip on my claymore. At least my sword was still with me: I could always count on Chrysamere.

I wore nothing save The Ring of Azura and the Moon and Star ring: even in my madness I had not removed them. I had no sheath for Chrysamere: it had been left, along with the rest of my possessions, in the snow outside of Thirsk. I would have to walk back to Thirsk, with no armor and no potions. Weapon unsheathed, I would be mistaken for a berserker by any people who I encountered. I did not want to fight innocents because of a misunderstanding. Perhaps I could use Divine Intervention to be teleported to the fort, but there was still the chance that the troopers there would think me a berserker. This would also happen if I Recalled to Raven Rock.

I could cast Almsivi intervention, which would take me all the way to Gnisis. Since berserkers were not known in Vvardenfell, no one would attack me merely for being nude. This seemed the safest plan.

From behind an ice outcrop stepped a Fryse Hag. She looked right at me but did not attack. From behind a mound of snow rose another Hag. I slowly turned in place and beheld more Hags. From every direction they were emerging. I was surrounded by them. There were at least thirty of them. They just stood there, silently watching me.

I readied my Almsivi Intervention spell but none of the women attacked. I waited.

The wind blew quietly.

After a minute, one of them said, "It is cold, yet she does not shiver."

"She stands naked on the snow with no evidence of discomfort, " said another.

They spoke in turn. Voices from in front of me, behind me, to the side.

"The cold does not effect her."

"She is a foreigner and has the appearance of a Breton."

"She reacts to the cold as a Nord."

"She is a Nord on the inside."

"She is a Nord where it counts."

"We have watched her."

"He have seen the events of the night, the effects of the mead."

"Many beasts she killed last night, with hardly a scratch on her."

"She faces us without fear."

"A true warrior she is."

"She is one of us."

That's OK: just talk about me in the third person as long as you like. No problem.

"Rashelle, you are a true Nord and you are one of us," said one. I guess she was the leader.

She approached me and I could see that she appeared slightly older than other Hags. There was suggestion of lines on her face. She had a ruthless look to her.

I remained silent. How did she know my name?

"We are the Ice Witches. In the old tongue, Fryse Hags. Kyne, mother of men, is our goddess."

"Kiss at the end," chorused the other women.

"I am Ylva She-Wolf, interim den-mother of the Ice Witches. Rashelle, there is a place for you as an Ice Witch if you want it. Won't you join us?"

"I have slain some of your people," I said. "How do you feel about that?"

"They attacked you. You defended yourself. Since you are alive and they are dead, they were obviously unworthy."

It had a brutal sort of logic to it.

When surrounded by this many people, refusing to join would not be a prudent thing to do. However, as always, I said the first thing on my mind without first thinking about it.

"No. I'll pass."

I expected them to try capture me or kill me or some such.

She nodded.

"This is not unexpected. Still, we recognize you as one of us. From this day forward no Ice Witch shall ever harm you. This extends to any who travel with you."

I wasn't going to have to fight my way out of this after all: good.

"If you ever change your mind, my invitation remains. Talk to any one of us. We will welcome you into our ranks ..."

She smiled.

"... with open arms."

Another Witch walked up to me. She held out a bundle: it was some sort of clothing. I took the offered bundle. The woman bowed and walked away.

"This is a set of clothing for you," said Ylva. "We wouldn't want you being mistaken for a berserker, would we? Good day, Rashelle. Remember, though you deny it, you are one of us."

They darted away, each in a different direction.

I was alone again.

I examined the clothing. I had feared that it would be a set of Ice Witch clothing but it actually consisted of a pair of plain brown pants and an exquisite red tunic. There were no shoes, but barefoot on the snow would not be a hardship for me.

A red tunic in this style was the unofficial uniform of House Redoran, which was my House. How much did they know about me?

I put the clothing on. Now I could, if I wished, teleport to the fort or to Raven Rock without fear of being mistaken for a berserker. I could then buy armor and walk to Thirsk.

The mead hall was my destination. I had to make sure that the two people I had struck during my mad rush were unhurt. I also wanted to reassure everyone there that I was now all right. Additionally, I wanted to know what the people of Thirsk felt about what had happened to me: If they decided to throw me out of Thirsk, I would accept this. I just wanted to know, to get it over with already.

The sun sparkling off of the snow cheered me somewhat. I stood for a time, reviewing the startling recent events and collecting my thoughts. I was relieved that some small vestige of my humanity had prevented my from killing any innocent people.

I used Divine Intervention to teleport to the fort. I had intended to buy a set of armor from Zeno Faustus, but before I entered the armory, I remembered that I had no gold on me. I would just have to rely on my Unarmored skill.

North I strode from the fort. I wanted to reach Thirsk as quickly as possible.

I was trekking though an area without snow on the ground when I saw a Fryse Hag, or rather, an Ice Witch. I recognized her. She was the one with the red hair who I'd seen before ... the one who had appeared and disappeared in the snow ... the one who I had actually spoken with and who I had spared. I readied myself for her attack, in case that she had not yet received Ylva's orders regarding myself.

She slowly approached me and did not draw her dagger.

I said nothing.

She fell to her knees and raised her hands up towards me.

That was unexpected. I raised an eyebrow.

"I don't want to be an Ice Witch any more," she said. "Take me with you. Show me how to be Good."

"Why?"

"I can't stand the senseless slaying any more. I want to atone for the killing that I have done."

"I don't believe you."

"Please, you must believe me."

"No."

"Then I will atone the only way I can, at least one death will be repaid."

She drew her dagger and slashed, opening a nasty wound on her forearm and wrist. She'd done it correctly; a cut along the forearm, from elbow to the base of her hand, rather than across the wrist. Already there was a pool of blood forming on the ground.

"What are you doing?" I shouted.

She looked up, into my eyes, and said, "dying."

I hurriedly crouched down and took hold of her wrist, uncaring of the dagger still held in her other hand. I cast a healing spell: magic poured into her forearm and the slash disappeared, leaving smooth unbroken skin. I let go and stood up.

"Take me with you," she said.

"Again, no."

She slashed again, making the same cut as before.

"Fine: be that way," I said angrily. "Die!"

I turned away.

This post has been edited by blockhead: Aug 28 2007, 01:26 PM

[Dire Cheesecake]

Wow... we finally get more information about the Fryse Hags but it only leads to more questions. Does mead do that in the game? The ending was quite unexpected... never would have imagined Rashelle could be so heartless. You made me sad, blockhead.

[Gaius Maximus]

Hm... So Rashelle didn't have to slay the Fryse Hags' whole base, it appears. Unexpected, but interesting! And the ending made me think... Perhaps Rashelle's turning into a Fryse Hag? That'd be the best twist EVER!

And no, the mead doesn't do that in game... Though it's fun to do on purpose.

[The Metal Mallet]

Hmmm, an intriguing bunch of events in this update. Many questions answered, but more are raised as well. I look forward to seeing what happens next.

[jack cloudy]

Rashelle as a berserker? Woah, unexpected, to say the least.

[Dire Cheesecake]

Heh, I comment to much on the Fryse Hag stuff, but no one else usually does at all, so I think it evens out.

You know, I've been getting the feeling that Svenja likes Rashelle in more ways than she realizes. Anyone else noticed that?

[minque]

Woah! What an update you have here Blockie! I really enjoyed you picturing Rash as a berserker! How extraordinary....indeed.

But please...why let the poor Frysie die??? Why not just drag her along? I didn´t expect Rash to be that mean.... Who knows, maybe she can be of use for Rash...

[Dire Cheesecake]

Hey now minqe, don't go tellin blockhead how to right his own story.
















*sniff* *sniff* poor Frysie

This post has been edited by Dire Cheesecake: Aug 30 2007, 09:02 AM

[blockhead]

Hey now minqe, don't go tellin blockhead how to right his own story.

Minque was writing way before I started. She was on one the forces of inspiration that started me writing fiction. I always pay attention her counsel: even if I disagree, I mull upon her words seriously. Her advice is always welcome.

*sniff* *sniff* poor Frysie sad.gif

To quote Oddball from the movie Kelly's Heroes ... "Have a little faith baby, have a little faith."

[minque]

Hey now minqe, don't go tellin blockhead how to right his own story.

Now now my dear cheesecake! I am NOT telling blockie HOW to write his story.....you totally misinterpreted me!


I just felt some compassion for that poor frysie!


And blockie knows me .......and my comments by now...

[blockhead]

Chapter 20. Runa



I took a step, northward, towards Thirsk.

I took a second step.

I turned. She was kneeling there, head bowed. Her life's blood poured out onto the ground. She was a murderer, an Ice Witch. She ran around killing innocent people wantonly. She deserved death.

Focus, Rashelle. Focus.

If I left this woman to die, part of me would also die.

"No!" I screamed.

I ran to her, crouched down, and healed her.

She started to say something.

I backhanded her. I could not let her die, but I was feeling a lot of anger towards her.

"You do nothing but kill! You wander the damn island slaying anyone you meet ... and you just expect me now to suddenly forgive you?"

She simply stared at me.

I grabbed her shoulders and shook her. She did not resist.

"HOW MANY HAVE YOU KILLED?" I shouted.

"Six," she said.

I froze. I had not expected an exact number. An icy cold chill ran down my spine ... not the good cold that I like, but an evil scary strange cold.

"We count our kills," she continued in a flat tone. "Six and one more would have allowed me to go to the next level."

I stared, agape.

"Our ranks are determined by how many we kill. I am of very low rank. I don't know the Secret Lore. You would have been my seventh kill. Had I been able to slay you the other day, I would then have advanced to the next level."

I was silent.

"You are trembling," she said.

I removed my hands from her shoulders.

"Please," she said, "take me along with you. I want to atone. I want to do good."

"What is your name?"

"Runa Fire-Hair."

"Runa, you must do as I say, at all times. You must not kill except in self defense."

She nodded and said, "I promise."

She seemed very sincere. Only time would tell.

"Very well. I will take you with me."

I hoped that I would not regret this.

"Oh, thank you, outlander!" she said eagerly.

"My name is Rashelle."

"Thank you, Rashelle!"

I stood up. She cleaned her dagger with snow and then sheathed it. I extended my hand. She grasped it and pulled herself up until she was standing.

It would be a long way to Thirsk and I was suddenly very tired. I can normally go without sleep for a night and not feel it, but the previous night's unusual activity had drained me. Nervous energy, the aftereffects of my meeting with the Hags and the feeling of lightness from not wearing armor, had kept me going ... but that was wearing off. I did not think I would make it to Thirsk without first taking a nap. My fatigue potions were in my pack ... at Thirsk.

I cast a Restore Fatigue spell but it didn't seem to help. I had been running rapidly, stopping only to fight, for an entire night. I needed real sleep, not a spell.

This left the question as to where to rest.

I considered teleporting to the fort for a nap. As an Ice Witch, Runa never had a reason to learn the Divine Intervention spell: she could not teleport with me to the fort. I could not lend her my Divine Intervention amulet, as it was up at Thirsk with everything else. I would have to sleep somewhere closer.

Kolfinna's old dwelling was not so far. That Dwemer ruin east of the fort was not far either. It had been on the way to that particular ruin where I had first met Runa. I'd spent a night there already. It would be a good place for me to rest.

"Rashelle, what is wrong?"

"I am thinking."

She waited.

"Follow me," I said.

She nodded.

I led her southeast: I had chosen the Dwemer ruin. On the way, we encountered another Nord tomb. Despite my weariness, I was as curious as ever: I said to Runa, "Let's go in."

This barrow was unusual in that there were no draugr or bone wolves, only skeletons. There were many of them and they were better at fighting than the average skeleton.

Runa's dagger was small yet its keen edge and its frost enchantment made it most effective. How odd it was to have an Ice Witch fighting at my side instead of against me.

The last skeleton was unusual in that it was wielding an enchanted weapon, a saber. It was even tougher than the other skeletons. As I parried the saber I could sense the nature of the enchantment on the blade: it was a Demoralize Creature spell which would tend to make animals turn and run away. Since Runa and I were not beasts, it had no effect on us.

After this last undead had been dispatched, I said, "Runa, I am tired and I need to rest. My original plan was to sleep in a Dwemer ruin nearby, but this tomb will serve. I would like you to stay here while I rest. Do not go outside for any reason."

I did not want her out of my sight.

"I promise."

I brushed dust from a spot by a stalhrim coffin. I missed my sleeping fur already. I lay down on the hard floor, sword still in my hands.

"Rashelle, I won't attack you. There is no reason to sleep with your sword."

"Runa, I always sleep like this. If I had armor now, I'd keep it on."

"That's strange."

"It's kept me alive."

"Don't you ever take the armor off?"

"Only for certain situations where it would get in the way."

"What do you mean?"

"Bathing, other things."

I slept.

After what felt like an hour or so, I awoke. I felt able to function again.

Runa was crouched against one of the carved stones, running her finger slowly along the surface.

"Runa."

She turned to me.

"Can you read those?"

"Oh yes. Most Ice Witches cannot, but I learned to read the Old Tongue, as well as Tamrielic, back at the orphanage in Skyrim."

"How did you end up here in Solstheim?"

"When I was a child, the Ice Witches recruited me."

"The Witches are in Skyrim as well?"

"Not really, but they go there to recruit children."

She continued, "I had run away from the orphanage. I'd been living in the streets for a week or so. The Ice Witches came. They said I would end up a thief or a prostitute or dead if I continued living that way. They fed me. They clothed me. They took care of me."

Recruit them as children, at an impressionable age. It made sense, in an evil way.

I stood up and brushed dust from my clothing.

"Rashelle, I searched the skeletons. One of them, the one with the enchanted sword, was carrying a pouch. In this, I found a note and a key. The note is a poem hinting at a treasure. I would guess the key is to that treasure."

"Ha. Most likely some other adventurer has found it by now and picked the locks. It is of no concern to me."

"But you are an outlander. You come here to loot the tombs and steal the treasure."

I glared at her.

"Runa, I have no need of treasure. I won't deny that I've looted many a tomb, but that is not why I came to Solstheim. I came here to see new things. I came here to explore."

"I'm sorry."

Now that I had rested, we could head straight to Thirsk, but there was a nagging ... something ... in my mind.

"Are we going now?" she asked.

"Yes."

Memory came to me of that book ... the one that I had found in the Dwemer ruin. Maybe Runa could read it. I needed to go to Thirsk, but that ruin was nearby, and I was curious.

Upon leaving the barrow, I could see that it was rather late in the afternoon. Sunset was not so far off. I had slept longer than I had intended to.

A few spriggans and bears later we reached the ruin. We entered and discovered that new Dwemer robots had replaced the ones I had destroyed the last time. Perhaps they had come from the lower depths of the facility, the areas which I had not explored. Runa and I fought through them.

The book was in the desk, where I had left it. Runa showed a care akin to my own as she handled the ancient tome. I approved. I was beginning to like her, though it was too soon to see if I could trust her.

I built a fire and I started to cook some meat. This time, it was a chunk of bear meat that I had obtained on the way from the tomb. I cooked as she read. She was rapt in concentration, though she did not look happy. I left her to it.

Eventually, the meat was done.

"Runa. Come eat. Put the book down."

"Rashelle, do you know what book this is?"

"Ancient Nordic cooking secrets?"

"No. It's our charter."

"Er?"

"This is a copy of the Ice Witch Charter. It may even be the original, since it is handwritten."

I raised an eyebrow. What were the odds of that?

"Rashelle, there's been a terrible mistake. According to this book, we're not supposed to kill. We're supposed to heal and protect. We were a healing order! We fought only to protect people!"

A look of horror was on her face. What Runa had just said agreed with what Bereditte Jastal and Ulfgar The Unending had told me before.

"Rashelle, we must go and tell them."

"Wait."

"But, but ... don't you see? We can tell them and they will change their ways."

"Runa. I want you to think about a few things first."

"But why? Let's go!"

"Firstly, It is evening."

"OK, we go tomorrow, first thing in the morning!"

"Secondly, how long ago did you desert?"

"Several days ago. I've been trying to contact you for days, while simultaneously trying to avoid the rest of the Witches."

"What of that time in the snow storm? I saw you in the snow, once."

"I, I panicked. I wasn't sure. You looked like you were going to kill me."

"I was. You Hags were really annoying me."

"I-I-I'm sorry."

"Anyway, it's been long enough that the Ice Witches know that you left. As a deserter, what welcome will you receive?"

She paled, a difficult feat since she was a Nord and thus already pale, but she managed it.

"Oh, yeah: I forgot."

"Lastly, Runa, consider this: how did the Hags change from a healing order to a death-dealing order?"

She was silent.

"Back when I was investigating the Nerevarine prophecies, I visited the wise women of the Ashlander tribes. They had lost some of the prophecies. Some of them that were not lost were garbled."

"How? Why?"

"Almost none of them were ever written down. They were handed down by word of mouth. Though wise in many ways, and of a keen intellect, none of the Ashlander wise women knew how to read or write. It was a good thing that the Dunmer live so long, otherwise more would have been lost."

"Rashelle, the Secret Lore of the Ice Witches is only known to a few high ranking members, and they do not write it down: they pass it along by word of mouth."

"There you go. With the shorter lifespan of Men, the rate of garbling and loss of the information is greater than it was for the Dunmer."

"Rashelle, just passing by word of mouth changed the charter?"

"That, and possibly something else."

She scowled and said, "What do you mean?"

"Keep in mind that this will be supposition, though logical. I have no evidence."

"I understand. Continue."

I remained silent.

"Please," she added.

"Some people like power. They like to control. They like to tell others what to do. Some enjoy power just to get a bigger slice of the pie: to live a life of luxury at the expense of others. Some will go to great lengths to obtain it.

"What if two or three particularly selfish and ruthless individuals wanted to take over an existing organization?"

"You mean, attack it and take them over?"

"Nothing so obvious, no. They would do it from the inside. They would join this organization. Perhaps they were already members. They'd rise in the ranks, perhaps speeding their way along by spying and blackmail, by manipulation, maybe even by outright assassination."

She nodded and replied, "Assassination is another way of gaining rank as an Ice Witch. If you can successfully slay your superior, you obviously deserved her rank."

How Telvanni. I had learned more about the Ice Witches but was beginning to wish that I had not.

"So you kill each other as well as everyone else? Yeesh!"

"That is why I left, Rashelle. I could not take it any more."

"So, Runa, what I am trying to say is this: perhaps two or so centuries ago, some group used the above means to put themselves in control of the original Ice Witches. They then decided on new Secret Lore, more to their tastes. Good Hags, the followers of the real Lore, were either slain outright or they began simply to have 'accidents'. Some probably went along with the new rules for fear of their lives."

This was all off the top of my head, but it seemed logical to me, quite plausible.

"Eventually, only the ruthless 'new type' Ice Witches remained. A generation passed and all was forgotten but for the new ways."

She frowned, but did not deny it. As there was no written records from the time of the transition, we would never know for sure. I suspected that this was close to how it had actually happened.

"Runa, they won't believe you. And they may not want to change: I'll venture a guess that Ylva and the higher ranking Ice Witches enjoy the way things are now."

"So there is nothing we can do?" she said.

"Not that I can think of. Perhaps, over time, an idea will emerge."

"And right now?"

I held out a piece of the bear meat.

"We eat."

After a time, she spoke.

"Rashelle, their base is in Domme, near Thormoor's Watch, on the west coast. It is a system of ice caves."

I had not asked her about this because I did not want to push her. I feared that if I pushed her, I would get no information.

"Thormoor's Watch?"

"Yes. It's named after this strange man why stands there day and night. No one has ever seen him sleep. A mean fighter, he is. We, ummm ... they, have given up on trying to kill him."

Thormoor stood there no longer: his curse of sleeplessness had ended. I wondered where he had gotten to?

"I urge you not to try to attack the base," she continued, "I know you can take several of us at once, but you'd be overwhelmed if you went there. And there is no way you could sneak in. They have the Secret Lore: they have ways of knowing when someone is coming. They will kill you."

"I've been invited to join them, by Ylva She-Wolf."

She was visibly astounded.

"It happened this morning," I continued, "shortly after sunrise, in the icy northwest part of the island, near a castle made of ice."

She blinked and said nothing.

"Ylva gave orders that no Fryse Hags would ever attack me. She declared me one of them."

"Rashelle, don't do it. Do not go there."

"Runa. I need a night's sleep. I'm going to put wards on the doors so nothing can sneak in without waking me. Then I am going to sleep. Wake me if you need to go outside for any reason. Do not leave without me."

After setting the spells as I had described, I curled up in a corner. She looked at me strangely as I once again clutched my sword in my hands.

I smiled at her and said, "Good night, Runa."



We reached sight of Thirsk in the late morning, close to noon.

"Runa, I want you to be silent."

She looked questioningly at me.

"I do not wish conflict at Thirsk. I will not hide the fact that you are an Ice Witch: I will be honest with them. However, I think that you might say the wrong thing. I want you to swear a vow of silence until I tell you to stop, OK?"

She nodded.

"Even to warn me of something, even to shout 'look out', would break your vow. Remain silent at all times, in all situations, at all costs. Will you do this?"

She nodded. Good.

I led the remainder of the way to Thirsk. I opened the door and we stepped inside.

"Rashelle! You're back!" said Svenja, who appeared out of nowhere as she always seemed to, "Are you all right now?"

A wave of shame flooded through me. I had left here as a berserker.

"Yes Svenja ... now I am."

I raised my voice, addressing everyone in the room, "I must never drink mead again. It turns me into a berserker."

There, I'd said it. I waited for their reaction. They'd tell me to leave. Most likely Svenja would be the acting chieftain until another emerged with a suitable trophy.

"That's amazing; not one in a hundred does that happen to," said one of the men.

"Truly a Nord you are," exclaimed another in wonderment.

"What a chieftain!" said another happily.

"Hail, mighty berserker chieftain!"

Comprehension dawned on me. They thought it was absolutely wonderful that I had been a berserker. As I have said before, Nords are just ... twisted.

I looked into Svenja's eyes. I saw nothing but approval and admiration. I felt somehow disappointed: I'd hoped that she would be different.

"Outside, I struck someone while in my madness, and in here I smashed into someone during my rush to get out. I am sorry and I can heal them both now."

"No worries," said one of the men. "I don't mind a pretty lass knocking me down!"

Laughter filled the great hall.

"You pack a mighty wallop!" said another, happily.

I could not help but smile. Apparently, all was well at Thirsk ... even with a berserker chieftain.

"Who is your friend?" asked Svenja. The ice in her voice was not the kind I liked.

"This is Runa, Runa Fire-hair. She is under a vow of silence."

Svenja glared and said, "She is dressed as a Fryse Hag. I see she even wears their kind of dagger."

"Runa is a former Fryse Hag. She has defected. She wants to reform herself. She wants to atone."

"Fryse Hags slew my father," said Svenja, "She must die."

Her features contorted with hatred. She turned and ran for the back of the room.

"Runa: do not move," I said.

Svenja had reached the bar. From behind it, she fetched her axe. I advanced a few steps until I was standing in front of Runa.

"No, Svenja!"

"They slew my father!" she shouted, "My mother died of a broken heart after father was slain. Hags killed my parents!"

"Runa is under my protection. Do not touch her."

Svenja was running towards me, axe raised. She screamed and her axe arced though the air. My claymore parried.

The muscles in her arms bulged as her axe came at me again. Chrysamere blocked her swing.

I was horrified. This was my friend. After all the time we'd spent together, the things we'd done together, I could not believe that she would attack me merely to get at Runa.

I kicked and she flew back.

I hit her with a paralysis spell. It didn't work. Svenja resumed her attack. I swung and, with a loud clang, her axe flew through the air. She kicked. I dodged fast enough that it was only a glancing blow. Still holding my sword, I struck her jaw with my elbow. She staggered and took a step back. I kicked her in the stomach. Her Nordic ringmail cuirass absorbed most of the impact, and I was barefoot, but still the wind was knocked out of her. She fell.

Svenja, my friend, lay on the floor, gasping in pain.

I looked around. I saw that her axe had embedded itself in a beam: no one had been hurt. The room was silent but for Svenja's gasps. Fortunately, no one had tried to interfere: all stood (or sat) motionless.

I crouched by Svenja and cast two spells. One was a fatigue spell: it forced her to fall asleep. She would be out for twelve minutes or so. The other one was a Restore Health spell: whatever damage I had done to her was now healed.

I stood up.

"She is fine and will soon be awake again."

I paused.

"Fetch my pack and my armor."

From the back of the room ran a man carrying my pack, my armor, the clothes that I wore under the armor, and my sheath. They had been by the bar, where doubtless Svenja had loyally watched over them. He approached me. I motioned for him to drop them on the floor. He did so.

"Thank you."

I would have liked to change into my usual garments but there was not enough time to find a private place to do so before Svenja awakened. I instead put my armor on over the clothes I was currently wearing. It felt good to wear my armor, my sheath and my pack again. Finally, I was able to return Chrysamere to its sheath.

"Do not hold this against Svenja," I ordered. "She is still second in command of Thirsk. Continue to obey her orders as my own."

I strode to the beam and pulled Svenja's axe from it. I returned to Svenja's side and set the axe down. I put the handle in her hand and wrapped her fingers around it.

"Protect her," I said. "Do nothing bad to her. If anything happens to her, I'll know ... and I will exact retribution."

The room was silent.

"For now, I am leaving. I want no strife at Thirsk."

I took Runa's wrist and led her outside.

She looked like she was going to burst, but she kept her vow: good girl.

I did not know if Svenja would try to pursue us upon awakening or not. I hoped that time would make her more reasonable. I had not known about her parents.

I strode south and then southwest. I wished to avoid the lake for now: I was not ready to see if the horkers would attack me or not.

After an encounter with a pack of wolves, and another with a frost boar, I said, "Runa, I release you from your vow of silence."

"Thank you."

I continued walking, but Runa tugged on my arm. I stopped and turned to face her.

"Rashelle, I am sorry to have caused this trouble. Just slay me. Kill me now. Then you can go back."

"No, Runa. I will not do that. I will teach you to be good. I will help you atone."

"But, your friend. What will you do?"

"I don't know."

She frowned.

I realized that if we continued to walk in the direction that we had been going, we would end up near Brodir Grove and the home of Ulfgar The Unending. In my pack was that recently obtained book on Sovngarde. I had not yet read the book, but I had hopes that it would be of help to him.

"Runa, come. We are going to the Brodir Grove."

[The Metal Mallet]

Well I certainly hope time with help ease the rift between Rashelle and Svenja; it's not good for friends to be fighting each other!

Excellent update.