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!

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.

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Zarador and I spent most of the trip belowdeck, looking over the hopelessly outdated maps of Solstheim.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.

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!

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!

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.”

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.”

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.

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.

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

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’.

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).

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.

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.

[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.

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.”

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!

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.”

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

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

I second Revan's sentiments. Those might not be normal wolves... Looks like Ro-El might be putting his new armour to use very, very soon.

Excellent update, Jack.

I had planned this to happen for a while, but it feels like cheating now. Damn.



As a Skaal, I was not afraid of wolves. Oftentimes, I’d watched them from a close distance as they hunted, each individual moving like a gear in a Dwemer machine, each moving to complement the movements of the pack as a whole. Wolves were brilliant hunters and I respected them, but I did not fear them. As the Skaal had respect for the wolves, the wolves had respect for the Skaal. We were neighbours and never squabbled. Sometimes, we even helped each other out, by presenting food and protection to those lost in the wilderness while wounded.

As such, my reaction to the howls where not strange at all. If I’d known however, I would have done something quite different. Anyway, I landed the Wing on a nearby hill and stuffed it into my pouch. After that, I casually strode through the snow towards the wooden huts. There was a storm brewing, and the wind deafened my hearing for a bit. Because of that, I did not hear the warcries and distinct sounds of battle till it was too late. I was an arrowshot away from the village when I finally caught on.

,,Ok, this is bad.” I muttered as my eyes tried to pierce the darkness of the night. There was a slight amount of light coming from the various campfires, but it was only enough to see vague silhouettes. The Skaal were fighting against Draugr, Spriggans, Rieklings? It was hard to see. I took a single step forward to reach a better vantage point.

The snow in front of me exploded. Something dark flew up. I backflipped on pure instinct and managed to avoid the swipe of its hairy paws, though I still got a large amount of the damn thing’s spit in my face. I still could not make out more than a silhouette and two yellow eyes as it lunged at me. Obviously, it was out for my blood. I had other ideas. I snapped into the ‘Floating Butterfly’ close-range evasion technique to dodge it. The Floating Butterfly is highly aggressive for a martial art focussed on evasion. While most styles try to increase the distance, the Butterfly calls for closing the distance as far as is possible and then moving around the opponent’s arc of attack. It also calls for the user to be extremely light on his feet, more floating than standing.

It is my favourite style for evasion and I complement it with an offensive style which seems to be simply meant to be used in conjunction with the Floating Butterfly. The Stinging Bee, which is all about hitting the vital parts with quick strikes of the fingers when they are least prepared.

In this case, I hopped between its arms and moved into position for my next move. A smooth switch to the Stinging Bee later, and the tips of my finger dug into the fur, piercing the skin like an arrow between two ribs. I withdrew my hand, jumped on one of its arms to use it as a springboard and then followed through with a knee to the throat. The creature reeled back from the assault. I moved away from it and waited anxiously. After three tense seconds, it fell down on its face, killed by both a partially crushed heart and a crushed windpipe. The heart had been the worst one. Suffocation takes a bit longer to kill. Now that it was dead and no longer moving, I got the opportunity to see it properly. But first I wiped the spit from my face.

It was a wolf, a humanoid wolf about as tall as your average Nord. In other words, very tall. The claws looked razorsharp and I considered myself lucky for avoiding them. The same thing could be said about its mouth.
,,Ok, so the Skaal are fighting off a raid by big wolves. I heard of this before. Err…When the moon turns red with the blood of the prey, the h…Ehm…Crap.” I broke into a run as I finally realized the meaning of all the signs I’d seen. This was bad, really bad. In fact, it was the Skaal version of the end of the world. Only instead of being a story, it was really happening.
,,Brilliant. I get to save Morrowind from a god and I get to fight werewolves here as a warm-up. This is so not nice.”

More werewolves leapt out of the darkness as I approached the village as fast as my legs could take me. I would have preferred to tackle the problem as an agent, by slipping on the armour and releasing the Wing before showering everything that moved with Fireburst scrolls. But time was not on my side so my only option was to tackle the problem as a Nord. Take one sword, put the pointy bit into the hairy thingy, repeat till all hairy thingies are gone.

My rapier flashed in the light of a campfire. I stabbed in the knee of a werewolf, rolled between its legs, flipped up backwards and stabbed a second time, now in an eye. The thing shrieked before crashing down into a broken heap.
,,Roland!” I whirled around to meet the voice, dodging a big mouth full of teeth in the process.
,,Oh, hi Tharsten. Say, you didn’t tell me about the damn party. What’s the meaning of this?” I shot at the burly Nord while I poked out the eye of the werewolf with a thumb. The critter shrieked like the one I killed a moment earlier, giving me the chance to slit its throat. They were big, but not as tough as they looked.

,,It means the Hunter is about to return! You aren’t supposed to be here! Flee, now!” Tharsten shouted before he was interrupted by a werewolf that bit down on his arm.
,,Agh! Fiend! I’ll show you the power of a Skaal!” He grunted. His arm rose up into the air and swung down. The mace he wielded cracked open the beasts skull like a nut under a hammer.
,,Tharsten, you ok?!” I shouted and completely forgot the battle that raged around me. Sure, the Chieftain could be annoying at times but he was still my father. Still, forgetting about the two dozen bloodthirsty beasts around me was a bad thing to do. What was most emberassing was that the hit came from the front. I never saw it coming. I only felt the intense, burning pain that spread all across my body.
,,Roland!”

Oh no! Ro-El! Please, please be safe, I don't want this fic to end yet!

I must also comment on how brilliant these lines are:



That sums up Ro-El's identity so well, I love it! Continue the good work buddy!

I just stumbled on to this thread today. Just read the entire thing in one sitting. Cool! I'd like some of these Dwemer gadgets and a self-repairing factory.

My only question is the apparent use of the word "death" here and there where context seems to imply the word "dead".

One such example:


Or is this a bizarre auto-censor thing?

Or maybe it is an "in" joke that I don't know about

I have a feeling it has to deal with the fact that Jack lives in a country where English isn't the first language. Am I correct?

I think that this story, besides from being an excellent and enjoyable reading, also is very well written! And considering Jackie is not native english makes it an aven bigger achievment! Tell me! I know all about that! (being a non-native)

Oh, I didn't think of that. Well now I feel kinda like a spotted owl.

I don´t think Jackie will mind though...he´s really a nice guy...

Nah, I don't mind. It's constructive critiscism. So if I ever slip up like that, feel free to warn me.


Moons dripping with blood. Howls in the distance, eerie enough to make the blood freeze. A burning forest. And standing right in front of my eyes, a giant of a man, masked with the skull of a deer. In his hand, he held a spear. At his feet, a giant wolf sat, with an immense amount of drool dripping from its mouth. The man pointed at the wolf with a finger, then aimed the finger at me.
,,This is you.” He said with a deep voice.

The scene shifted. A cold cliff, suspended high above the ground with only a small ledge to stand on. The man was gone, together with the burning forest. Yet the moons still cried their tears of blood. A loud howl echoed all around me. I spun around to face the wolf. The creature growled at me and displayed its sharp array of claws and teeth.
,,Join me. Accept me.”

The mental voice caught me off guard. I swayed back and forth in the heavy winds as I tried to find a balance between stability and a defensive stance.
,,What are you?” I shouted at it over the screaming wind.
,,I am you. The blood that resides within you. I am the essence of your deepest desires. You’ve always wanted to be big and strong, just like Tharsten Heart-Fang. I can make your wish come true!” The wolf answered.

Me, a giant, drinking warrior? I had to admit that the idea appealed to me. To the old me. This was indeed my deepest desire while growing up among the Skaal. Not anymore though. In the new world I lived in, brute strength was not the perfect ideal. I was happy with myself the way I was.
,,Shut up. You’re a werewolf, not some sort of projection of my soul. Just jump of the cliff and leave me alone.” I shouted back in an act of defiance. Bad move.
,,Fool! The price of rejection is death!” It leaped forward, impossibly fast. I tried to dodge it with the standard backflip, which was another mistake. My jump managed to take me away from the claws and the teeth, but also away from solid ground. I knew I was going to die.

The wolf had followed me. Now this was interesting. Either I would die by turning into flat goo on the ground, or I would die by being torn to pieces in midair. Now all I needed to complete the situation were a few spellhappy mages and bowhappy archers. Preferably Altmer and Bosmer, in that order. I resigned to my fate and let the wolf strike out with its paws.

The scene shifted again. I was still hurtling down through the sky, but something was different. No, it wasn’t me who was falling but someone else. But who? He or she managed to make a perfect landing, causing grass to bent and the ground to explode into a cloud of dust. No wait, it wasn’t grass. When the person looked down, I could see the burning forest again. What I’d believed to be grass were the charred hulks of the trees and the feet were a pair of Dwemer boots that dwarfed the trees they’d flattened. Who or better yet, what was I inhabiting?

The wolf landed on another small ledge, conveniently located at eyelevel.
,,What are you?” It snarled, thereby voicing the question I’d thought. The voice that answered was without emotion, or warmth. It was as soulless as a Dwemer Centurion. That was what it was, a Centurion.
,,I am Pelinal, the shield of Resdayn. Kagrenac’s greatest achievement.” Its fist struck out, smashing the ledge, the wolf and most of the cliff to pieces.

Pain, burning pain that knocked the breath out of me. The latest scene was the least pleasant in a way.
,,Ah, he’s back.” I forced my eyes to open upon hearing those words. Even now that they were open, I couldn’t see anything.
,,It is good to see that you’re still alive, Chieftain.” The voice said again.
,,What, Chieftain?” I croaked and promptly returned to my dreams.

I kept drifting in and out of unconsciousness for the next few days. Slowly though, I began to recover my strength till after a month or two, I was finally capable of holding a conversation without passing out every five minutes.
,,Ok, now what is that about the Chieftain?” I asked the Shaman one day when he was nursing my wounds again. He looked up from his work, then looked down and continued grinding roots into powder.
,,We lost many good men that night. Ulfred the Mighty. Egbert Stonecrusher. The list goes on. We even had the misfortune of losing our Chieftain, Tharsten Heart-Fang. And that wasn’t the end of it. Most of the surviving warriors were wounded one way or another. Three nights later, they became wolves.” He explained.

,,In the following battle, we lost more men and women. Those that took part and survived were all wounded as well. This time though, we’d learned of our mistake. They protected the village by claiming their own lives before they too would become wolves. Now the elderly and the children are all that remain. Only we, and a single survivor of the first battle. A survivor who has somehow escaped the curse of the hunter.” He added. If I felt like it, I would have let out a really long sigh.
,,Me. I guess I’ve got a powerful friend or something.”

,,Yes, you. The god that protected you from the curse has my thanks though I wish he’d protected more of our warriors. As the son of our former Chieftain and the last remaining Skaal warrior, we’ve named you as our Chieftain. Roland Wolf-Tail, we face hard times. You are the last defender of our people so I’m doing all I can to heal your wounds. Now stop talking, you’re slowing down the healingprocess.”

Well that's a unique turn of events. Ro-El is now chiefton. I wonder how he'll handle that responsibility, since he hasn't truly kept up with Skaal tradition for quite some time now. I guess we'll see.

I really liked the description of his vision, nice imagery.

Well, there is this one thing that happens in such a case. Read on.




Chieftain of the Skaal. In other words, the safety of the village was my responsibility. Mine, and that of the warriors. But seeing as how I was the only warrior left, it pretty much meant I was on my own.
,,Crap this. Vvardenfell and Solstheim? How am I supposed to protect both?”

While I had my doubts regarding my suitability as Chieftain, I could not sit and watch the events unfold like a simple spectator. The next morning, I started an argument with the shaman, some cranky old fellow going by the name of Khorne Ice-Peak.
,,You are not healed yet! You must rest, Chieftain!” He pleaded.
,,Forget about resting. I’ve got a job to do and no one is going to stop me. What would you rather have, a Chieftain who collapses while making sure the village remains safe, or a village that is destroyed because the Chieftain took a nap?” I shot back, boring my eyes into his. After a lengthy staring contest, he gave up and allowed me to do whatever I wanted, as long as I wouldn’t die on him.

I tried to roll out of my bed. Emphasis on tried, because I was stiff all over like you wouldn’t believe. That’s the price you pay from fighting werewolves and getting beaten. The moment I got a good, straight piece of firewood to use as a cane, I managed a whole lot better. At least I managed to hobble around like a man ten times my age. I had set my mind on wandering around the village in search of ideas. Before I went outside though, I decided to satisfy my curiosity with what was likely the only mirror in the village.

My reflection made me realize how close I'd come to dying. Escaping the werewolf curse was a feat worthy of songs by itself, but escaping death caused by physical injury was quite a feat as well. Four pale white lines stretched from my left shoulder to my right hip. It was a miracle that those claws had bounced off my ribs instead of simply crushing the bony obstacles. I probably wouldn’t be able to move fluidly for a long time.

I turned away from the mirror and got properly dressed. In our history, we’ve had many bare-chested heroes but I preferred some warm wool on my skin, thank you very much. I hobbled out of the building with my improvised cane and was instantly assaulted by the curse know as fame.
,,It’s Roland Wolf-Tail!”
,,Chieftain!”
,,The Wolfslayer!”
,,The wielder of Silverthorn!”
,,No, it’s called Eyesplitter!”

I threw up my hands, promptly returning both hands to my cane before I lost balance.
,,Calm down! I’m not fit enough for all that hugging!” I shouted over the collective voices of the Skaal. I also sneaked a glance down at my rapier, which I’d tied to my belt out of pure habit.
,,Silverthorn? That’s not such a bad name. Better than Eyesplitter, that’s just gross.”
My own arguments were powerless, but Khorne the shaman came to my rescue.
,,Scram! Can’t you see that the Chieftain is still wounded? Fifty lashings for the one who is still in my sight after I’ve counted to ten! One….two…..Ten!”

Everyone had bolted away as sudden as they’d come. As I said before, Khorne was a cranky old man. I nodded a thanks towards the shaman who frowned and returned to his hut. I shrugged at that and began my inspection of the village, slowly forming the beginning of a plan. The Skaal village was in the open, too much in my opinion. Sure, there had never been a need to expect an attack but times changed. I had some ideas, now I just needed to bring them into play. I looked around for the kids I knew would be stalking me. I mean, that’s what all kids do when a local ‘hero’ is in town.
,,You, you and you. Tell everyone that I want a meeting in the Greathall in half an hour.” I told them and watched them go. Being in charge had its perks.

The kids did not disappoint. They were quick runners, and not as drunk as their parents, who were mostly dead by now.
,,Alright everyone, listen up!” I shouted over the chorus of voices, both young and old.
,,Here’s the plan. There is a hill just north of the village. I want the huts to be disassembled and rebuilt on top of that hill in a circle, spread out but close enough so that they all fit on the hill. We’ll abandon the Greathall. Next, I want the strongest of you lads to go out and chop down trees. We’re going to build a wooden wall around the village, with a sturdy gate. There will be a raised walkway on the inner side of the wall for people to stand on.” I began to explain, inwardly counting down the time till the first questions.
,,Five…four…three…two…one.”

,,Why do we need to move? What use is a wall?” One old woman yelled through my explanation.
,,It’s called ‘siege warfare’. Given proper construction, a fortified location cannot be taken without siege weapons, which I seriously doubt anyone has around here. Magicka can also take down fortifications but again, there are no mages here with a mastery of Destruction. Through the wall, we’ll be able to keep the werewolves out, at least long enough to give us a chance to pick them off with the bows I want to have made. The Bosmer kept their last war from turning into a total failure by fighting defensively. It took weeks or even months for the Khajiit to take down any fortified installation and they only succeeded by starving the defenders. Now the funny thing here is, any wolf we kill is more meat for us to eat. So they can all crush themselves against those walls we’ll build for all I care.” I replied.
,,Are there any more questions? No, then I’ll continue. Now as I said, there will be bows. Next is the inclusion of a watch. All four winddirections will be watched at all times. I suggest working in eight man shifts of two hours. Also, there will be strict rationing and no alcohol.”

,,No alcohol?! What’s that good for?!” One of the kids bawled. I leaned in closer to look at the little boy. Gods, he wasn’t even six years old!
,,For one thing, you’re too young for that stuff in the first place. Also, alcohol lowers a man’s reflexes, coordination, ability to think and other things. It helps a Berserker charge, that’s true. But frankly, Berserking is an offensive technique and offense is not going to help. Consider yourself drafted into the archery corpse.” I said, bringing my full skill at intimidation into play. It wasn’t much, I admit but it works when the victim is about a third of your age, and half the size.

,,That goes for everyone! Everyone will return to or learn how to fight. We’ll have a slight lack of iron, so the arrows will be tipped with stone or ice, preferably stone. Weapons that are too heavy to wield by anyone will be melted down and turned into rapiers. Given proper training, a child with a rapier can take on ten hulking warriors with Claymores and win. You’ll also learn hand-to-hand. Real hand-to-hand, no drunken brawling. We are facing a hard battle and I don’t intend to lose. Anyone who is caught slacking will be sent to Khorne. I’m sure he knows what to do.” I shouted over the murmurs of discontent.
,,Aye, I assure you that I have a few tricks in mind for any lazy rat.” Khorne answered with a smirk.

Looks like Ro-El is getting down to business. It's about time someone cleaned up and organized the Skaal, especially with the threat of werewolves against them. Hopefully there won't be any mutiny, that would just plain be annoying to someone as busy as Ro-El.

Keep it up, jack!

Ah Jackie! You post-machine! I´ll never fully catch up with your updates! But I enjoy them immensely everytime I read´em

Very good writing.....very good indeed

A short one and the beginning of chapter 4. (I seriously feel like I've lost count though.)




Chapter 4: Bloodmoon.

Five blocks of ice had been put in a line at what was the center of the new village. Each block was about the size of a man’s head. I walked from one end of the line to the other, tapping the snow with my cane at each step. My wounds had healed for the most part and the cane was no longer necessary but I’d taken a liking to it. The cane I currently used was basically the same piece of firewood grinded down into a smooth shaft with a thicker handle at one end.

,,Alright, ice. We all know what it is so I won’t bore you with that.” I spoke, tapping the closest block of ice with my cane. The four Skaal children who stood before me looked on with interest. Two of them looked a bit tired and the other two were nearly jumping with energy. That was because I’d forced the Skaal into a strict work pattern. One third building or keeping watch, one third training and one third resting. So the tired ones had been building the wall for the last four hours and the other two had been resting.

,,Now, inside this ice there is a small stone. I want you to get it out of the ice. Any volunteers?” I continued and grinned when the largest kid, Stark Wood-Fist, took the warhammer off his back and walked up to the block of ice with it. It was obvious to him that the only way to retrieve the pebble would be by breaking the ice. I put my cane on his chest to stop him.
,,Barehanded.” I told him. Stark looked at me in a confused way, dropped the warhammer and then raised his hand above the block of ice like he would’ve raised his hammer. His hand swung down and hit the ice with a loud thud. Only a small dent and a tiny crack was his result.

I shook my head and shoved him away.
,,No no, you’re doing it all wrong. Anyone else?” I looked at the group. None of them seemed interested in taking the challenge. Why should they? Stark was the strongest and biggest among them, matching my height despite being four years younger. He was also twice my weight, all muscle. And he had an ego to match.
,,Why don’t you try it yourself, cripple?” He spat, clutching his hand. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’d broken his fingers with that stupid bashing of his. Now who was the cripple here?

I levelled my eyes on him.
,,Cripple? I know a few cripples who could take you down without breaking a sweat.” I snickered. I then spun around and thrust two fingers at the ice. From the point of impact, a crack formed horizontally and grew, eventually traversing the entire block, neatly cutting it in half. I picked up the upper half and put it down next to my feet. Pebble in hand, I turned back to him.
,,I’m one of them. Now pick a new block and start practicing. You’ll be doing this for four hours each day till you succeed, got it? And no sneaky tricks with a warhammer at night.” I was interrupted by one of the lookouts who stood on the partially finished walkway.
,,Chieftain!”

I ascended the ladder to his position. Once up there, I did not need to ask what it was he’d seen. There were two things even a blind person would notice. First was the roaring pillar of fire rising up out of Lake Fjalding. This was something I’d never seen before. More important for me though, was the black cloud that had crawled over a nearby hill. Dagoth Ur’s forces had begun to move again.

,,I have no idea what it is, Chieftain.” The watch said. I shrugged and began to descent the ladder.
,,I’m going to check it out.” I told as I lowered myself onto the carpet of snow.
,,Don’t you need an escort?” The watch shouted after me. I waved him off and went through the gates. With my body back at near peak performance, my rapier at my side and a warm wolfskin around me, I wasn’t worried about my own safety. Dagoth Ur had no interest in a bunch of Nords. His interest was in me. So if that storm had decided that the time was right to finish me off, I’d rather not involve them. Besides, this was a perfect opportunity to investigate lake Fjalding. Trying to find a way into the layers of ancient Stalhrim was sacrilege under normal conditions, but who could blame me if I went to check out a possible threat towards the Skaal? As Chieftain, this was my task.

Wow, being a monk certainly has its advantages. Breaking blocks of ice with two fingers is one of em.

I have to wonder though... with all this time Ro-El has been spending up with the Skaal, I wonder how happy Zarador is. He's been stuck at that Imperial fort for quite awile now. I bet he has all the Imperials dreading their existance.

Keep it up cloudy!

Ooooo, I have no idea what is going to happen next. Maybe our hero needs to call for some Dwemer backup?

Yeah, Zarador has been left to his own devises for quite a while now. Don't worry, I've got something planned for him. But I'm not telling!

And I love how Ro-El turned from number one wimp into number one supermonk. Who needs Corprus strenght? It's all about skill.




The ashstorm had picked up speed and even though I jogged all the way to Lake Fjalding, it was merely an arrowshot away by the time I set my first foot on the slippery Stalhrim. Frozen waves, cracked under its own weight with jagged bits sticking out everywhere, Lake Fjalding looked nothing like the lake back in Vvardenfell. I had to find a way in somehow. There had to be a hole in the ice somewhere. I would have to be careful though. One slip and I would find out just how sharp those jagged bits really were. I slided across the surface slowly, approaching the fires that still rose up out of the lake. If there was an opening, it had to be close.

The ashstorm cut off al possible escape routes before drawing in closer. They only left a path towards the fire open which wouldn’t help me. There was no way for me to avoid whatever might happen. My only option was to fight my way through somehow. I stopped my careful sliding across the slippery surface and waited for its next move. My cane fell on the ice and my rapier left its sheath with a reassuring ‘shiiiiish’. Before me, the black clouds parted, opening a seductive path out of the cage I’d been put in. Was Dagoth Ur giving me a chance to simply walk away? Why would he, after all the effort he’d put into killing me? It didn’t make sense. I stayed put.

,,Wise choice, returned one.” A man with a horribly stretched face and incredibly long fingernails spoke as he stepped out of the clouds. Another of Dagoth Ur’s minions. I wondered just what caused the Chimer to change like that. Obviously he’d succumbed to the heart but last time I saw him, he was actively trying to stop Kagrenac and destroy the heart.
,,Cut the chatter. Just tell me what you’re up to.” I replied as calmly as I could. I could feel my hands turning slippery with the growth of my fear. A few deep breaths and inner resolve was all I could do to turn the tide and remain calm.
,,Isn’t this obvious? We’re here to stop you. You are a pawn in the game played by the gods. Azura has prepared your path. She knew you would come to this place in search of Pelinal’s key. And so, she hid the key here, one of three. We are here to prevent you from reaching that key. Look around you, Dumac. There is no escape.”

I gripped Ephraim’s rapier with both hands.
,,If there’s no path, I’ll simply have to create one. Legion rule: An army without a leader is no army, only a mob.” I put all of my strength into my leap, clearing twelve metres in a single bound. The creature reacted unnaturally fast. Ice leaped from its hands. The blast hit me in midair and I absorbed it easily, thanks to both my Nordic heritage and my Atronach like talent. Upon landing, I continued to slide forward over the ice. The thing tried again when I got close, this time actually trying to physically strike me.

I dodged its blow and thrust my rapier through its heart. To my horror, the damn monster only laughed at me.
,,Is that all you have? I no longer have a heart, I no longer have a mortal weakness you can exploit. The glory of Lord Dagoth is mine, and I’m his hand of justice.” It gloated.
,,Heart or no heart, let’s see how well you deal with explosion!” I struck again, with an open palm. The creature was like, most of the Sixth House’s minions, composed off ash. My hand smashed through its face like a ballista through a pile of sand.

,,Fool! I told you I have no mortal weakness! You cannot kill me! I am immortal! An Ashvampire cannot be slain!” I backed away from it. The vampire as it called himself simply regenerated a new head to replace the one it lost. I had to find a way to defeat it somehow. Preferably before it got bored and loosed the whole storm on me.
,,The storm, that’s the key! Everytime I hit it, the storm rebuilds it. I need to keep it from rebuilding somehow.”

There was only one idea I could come up with. If I’d put the clues together correctly, there was a way to defeat that Ashvampire thing. There was only one drawback to my plan. I had to enter Lake Fjalding first. And the way things were, there was only one entrance left for me to take. I destroyed a leg and ran while it was busy regenerating. The pillar of fire rose up before me, its heat making me sweat like a mountainstream.

,,Whenever I get hit by a spell, I absorb it and keep it stored for later use. This had better work.” I stretched my hand in front of me and focussed on the power within me. I thought of cold, freezing cold that would turn the air to snow and water to ice. The coldest cold possible. With each step, I could feel the warmth around me diminish as the air condensed around me in a thick, frozen barrier. The Ashvampire should have known better than use frost on me. I leaped into the flames.

I sure hope Ro-El know what he's doing. Ashvampires are fun to fight. In actuality they're quite lethal; I'm glad you agree with me on this.

I wonder what lies underneath the depths of the lake that could potentionally defeat this immortal creature...

Yeah, they are lethal in the game though the way I portray them in this story, they have a serious weakness. yes, despite the ashstorm whirling around. It's like the Death Star's exhaust port, Sauron's ring, Spaceball one's self-destruct button.

And I promised ghosts, didn't I? Man, this is the largest collection of Dwemeric in one update. Why am I even underlining it?





It was a long drop, something which my legs complained about when I finally landed. My shield had collapsed under the intense heat a bit too soon so I rolled over the steel floor to put out the fires. Once my situation wasn’t so ‘hot’ anymore, I went to assessing my situation.
,,One, I’m suffering second-degree burnwounds which hurt a lot. Two, my clothes are wrecked and I’m pretty much naked. Three, I’m inside a Dwemer facility, probably the research facility I’ve been looking for. Four, the fire sprouts from a cracked pipe so as long as I don’t turn off the oil-feed, I won’t have to worry about the ashies coming in.”

,,It was about time someone dropped in. I kept the heater running, but I’m sure you already noticed.” A dusty voice chuckled.
,,And five, there’s a ghost with a sense of humour here.” I thought to myself and looked at the incorporeal Dwemer.
,,Mind if I change clothes?” I asked with my own sense of humour. The ghost shrugged.
,,Please, be my guest. Also, you can find some healing balm in the medical cabinet to your right. You wouldn’t be the first one who gets burned by a cracked oilpipe.”

I went for the medical cabinet first. Dignity is fine and all, but I’d rather be undignified and healthy than dignified and hurting. The balm he’d suggested was a colourless goo which felt chilling to the touch. In essence though, it was no different than your average healing potion. By accelerating and enhancing the natural healing of the body, any wound would heal within a fraction of the time required normally, even if the wound was lethal.

One of the more controversial side-effects was that rapid aging was also involved. Plenty of soldiers or gladiators had turned into grey-haired, wrinkled old men and women in their early thirties due to too much healing. Too keep up with the physically younger ones, they had to swallow potions of a different kind which in the end only worsened their problem. One of the arguments for an old word of wisdom among warriors.
He who makes the enemy bleed is good. He who keeps the enemy from making him bleed is even better.

Anyway, I was still quite young, actually barely an adult, so the aging effect wouldn’t bother me too much. I might grow a bit of a beard but not much more than that. My skin itched as if a whole swarm of fleas crawled all over me. As the itching faded, I felt new strength come to me. Not just to my skin, but to my entire body. Health had been achieved, now the dignity. I opened my enchanted pouch which had been one of the few fireproof bits of apparel on me. From its depths I procured the Stalhrim armour.
,,Nice bag.” The ghost commented.

The first thing I noticed upon putting it on was how comfortable it was. I already knew that it was a perfect fit, but I had no idea it would feel like a second skin. A light, harder-than-steel skin. Definitely fireproof as well, as Stalhrim could not be melted by any flame. And trust me, there have been plenty of attempts at melting Stalhrim. They all failed. The only reason why the fire managed to create a hole in the lake was due to simple overwhelming pressure. The pipe must have cracked years before I was even born, or reborn, whatever. Over the years, the pressure had been building and building till finally, the whole thing popped.

Which brought a new problem to my attention.
,,Is there anything left beyond that heavily fortified cabinet?” I asked the ghost. He looked at me in silence and then floated to a dark corridor.
,,Not much. There is the frozen corridor in the left wing but everything else has been blown to bits. Everything not locked inside a chest, keg or whatever. The food is spoiled though and everything else is a pile of rust. I’m really sorry about the food, cause unlike me, you’re probably not on an all-exclusive diet. Anything else?” It said with another chuckle. I never knew ghosts could laugh at their own fate. It was rather comforting though. Most adventurers I knew off only got to know the aggressive side of ghosts.

I walked towards the corridor and waved my hand. The corridor definitely felt cooler than the room I was in. The frozen corridor that had been mentioned had to be in that direction. A frozen corridor, another clue that fit with my theory.
,,Are there some explosives around? I want to crack that ice and see what's behind it.” I explained, leaning against the wall.
,,No, but there is a drill Centurion in the vault. Aren’t you tired of hard rock? Can’t lift that pick? Want the gold but not the sweat? Then Nebrighk company’s Drill Centurion MK IV may be something for you! Made from high-quality steel, this baby is designed to drill your tunnels while you sit back and get the cash. Gold, Silver, Glass, Ebony, nothing’s too hard for the Drill Centurion MK IV. Buy one today and get this plushy Netch toy and one can of oil for free! And between you and me, scientific testing has revealed that it’s also a good way to pick up women with.” A ghost with humour indeed.

Half an hour later, I had set up the Drill Centurion. While the ghost’s advertising had lied about the plushy Netch toy, it had been spot on when it boasted about the drill’s quality. Watching an oversized Kwama forager roll forward on a dozen wheels and slowly drill its way through the ice was quite interesting to watch.
,,So, what are you doing here anyway?” I asked my host while we waited.

,,Well, I’m just hanging around you know. But to tell you the truth, I’d hoped to do something else. I’m Nebrighk the second, and the inventor of that wonderful drill. Know what? You can keep it! It’s not that I have any use for money anyway. I can’t give you the plushy Netch though, the mice got to it first. How did those beasts get in here anyway?” It begun, its laugh fading.
,,Gotta stay on topic. I was quite the ambitious lad, so I jumped at the chance to aid the great Kagrenac in a Centurion test! He’d sent me a package with new brains for the Centurions. All I had to do was to put them in the sphere’s and activate them. Only those things went on a rampage and killed everyone except me. I must’ve done something wrong there.”

So that was the secret behind the Dwemer’s utter defeat. Kagrenac telling naïve young Dwemer to help him in his research, in effect telling them to destroy their own kind. It was simple, yet it had been horribly effective. I wished Kagrenac was still alive. Then I could give him a proper punishment for his crimes.
,,You didn’t do anything wrong. Kagrenac was a lying monster who wiped out everyone.” I spoke with seething anger.
,,And how do you know, kid? You’re just a Nord. Kagrenac is the greatest master of our people. His works are amazing! Say, we’ve been talking Dwemer all the time. Where did you pick that up?”

,,I’m a reincarnated Dwemer. One of his victims.” I explained and waited for the Dwemer to continue.
,,A Dwemer reincarnating as a Nord? Ah, why not? Ok, then Kagrenac played me for a fool. Argh! I’ll tell you the rest of my story if you do me a favour. Wipe that bug out if you run into him. Of course you will, I can see it in your eyes. Good, now I couldn’t leave this place because it’s so damn cold outside and no airships would come. A week after the slaughter though, a Dwemer lass came in. Oh boy, skin like marble, eyes like sapphires. Just thinking of her makes me feel better. She carried a very odd sword with her. For one thing, it looked like a mix between Dwemer work and that Nord Ice stuff you’re wearing right now. For the other thing, it was cold! I swear, the temperature dropped to near zero the moment she brought that thing in. She put it there and when she left, she turned me in a ghost somehow. To atone, she said.”

Dwemer steel, Stalhrim and a potent frost enchantment. Only one blade matched that description. Forgeheart, one of Pelinal’s keys. After a few hours, the Drill had finished its work and stopped. Forgeheart stuck out of the ice, looking brand-new despite the long years it had spent in there. I gripped the hilt with a mixture of new experience and old remembrance. Its power filled the room, coursing through my body, reflecting off the walls.
,,Forgeheart, the ice-key. Nebrighk, I give you my word that I’ll right the wrong you’ve suffered. I swear it on this blade, which was once wielded by Dumac himself.” I spoke solemnly and swung it around. Its balance was nothing short of perfect and despite its massive appearance, it was as light as my rapier. The ghost smiled and nodded, gesturing at its heart. I knew what it had asked without words.
,,As you wish.” I whispered and plunged Forgeheart into his spiritual body.
,,Thank you. I can feel the cold. Finally, I can say leave this world. Farewell, friend.”

Oooo Forgeheart sounds badass. I really like the fact that Ro-El gave mercy to that ghost, very much like the Dwemer he should be.

Now time to wipe out some baddies!

Sorry, but I got distracted from writing. Anyway, after writing the last update, I got my hands itching for another take on Forgeheart. I wasn't entirely satisfied with it.

Ok, the new Forgeheart still isn't perfect, (blade and crossguard specifically) but it looks much better now in my opinion. The runes are Daedric because I was too lazy to actually search for Dwemeric. Ah well, another plothole for Ro-El to break his head over. If you can't read the admittedly fuzzy writing, it says two things.

I AM FORGEHEART (near the hilt.)
TURN TO ICE AND SHATTER (From the tip to the I AM FORGEHEART bit. The order of the words is backwards though. Oops.)

Big overall render. No background because I felt lazy.


And a close-up of the hilt. I like the newer version of the crossguard which flows over the blade a bit more. Also notice the new addition of a shiny metal ring to hold the gem at the pommel.


And just for comparison, here's the old render again. Yeah, I switched back to the orange blade.

Oh how I love looking at cool swords! Neat effects. I can tell you put some good work into this. Thanks for sharing!

You're better than I am Jack, I hardly have time for posting updates to my stories..... I don't even know how to make models and post screenshots.

The screenshotting is simple. Just use photobucket and you're set.

The modelling is a bit harder and I'm by all means still an amateur. Milanius makes some terrific weapons.

I personally use Wings3D. It's easy, it's not too hard on the computer and best of all.....it's free. I started with Blender which is also free yet a heck of a lot more powerful. Only, I couldn't wrapped my mind around it even after turning into rubber. So Wings3D is my thing, even though it lacks some features like animating and particle effects. It goes from right-click, left-click, right-click, left-click and hey......I've got a model.


Anyway, back to the update.




It did something to me. The way Nebrighk had been doomed to wandering this forsaken place for eternity, all because of Kagrenac and his plans. The heart of Lorkhan, or whatever it was that granted godlike powers to those who used it, was one evil thing. Last time it had taken the life of my people. Who would pay the price now? We all would, if no one would stop Dagoth Ur. I sat down against the wall with a heavy heart. Forgeheart lay at my feet, in a thick layer of frozen dust.

Just what was the point of it all? Why was I doing this? To prove something? I was Dwemer but what good did that fact do me? Dust, cracked steel and stories, that’s what we’ve become. Stories to keep the children in line.
,,Eat your vegetables, or the evil Dwemer will put you in his bag and have you work in his mine.” Dust, cracked steel and stories. Any act on my part would be meaningless to change our reputation. Not that it mattered. I was the last Dwemer alive and even then, I had the body of a Nord. So by all means, the last Dwemer was dead.

And what about Dagoth Ur? Even if he’d gotten his power through treachery, he was still a god. How do you kill a god? You don’t, you just hide in a corner and hope he ignores you. There was no way Dagoth Ur could be killed. Even his minion was pretty much invincible.
,,Wipe that bug out if you run into him.” That’s what Nebrighk had said. I promised him I would right the wrongs we’d suffered and what did I do instantly after putting him to rest? I crawl up against a wall and drown myself in self-pity!

I stood up brusquely and snatched Forgeheart from the cold floor. My blood burned with the fury of a berserker. I’d made a promise, and I’d be damned if I was going to break it five seconds after swearing an oath! I’d promised Nebrighk, I’d promised the Duke, Nerevar, Vivec, Almalexia, Sotha Sil, my people and……I promised Voryn Dagoth. I would free anyone who suffered under Lorkhan’s heart. That was my purpose, that was why I came all the way here looking for a sword. I would stop Voryn Dagoth, and free him from the curse he’d unwillingly put on himself. I no longer hated him, I pitied him. He’d tried to destroy the heart but in the end, he just became its slave. I would free him from his shackles, no matter how hard it might be.

But to do that, I had to be prepared. I couldn’t just walk in and do whatever I would do. The Dwemer place I was in was a research facility. It was heavy on paper yet light on weapons. The paper had been lost long ago, but the few weapons it had were still there in the vault where the Drill Centurion had been parked. I went there first. Not for a weapon, for every weapon it contained couldn’t even compete with Forgeheart’s shadow. All I needed was a small, flat box about the size of a small book.

People think that everything we Dwemer made was made out of metal. They’re wrong. Sure, we used a lot of metal, perhaps more than was healthy but we also used our fair share of wood, fabrics and ropes. Only most of these materials have been devoured by rats and time. The box I was holding was made out of metal, with a slit on one side and several attachment points for leather straps at the corners. I had a few spare sheets of leather just in case I lost my belt Like a short while ago. I could cut up a sheet right now and make the box whole again.

I set to work and within a few minutes, I could tie the little box to my back like a backpack. Once it was in place, it was time to practice. I felt around with a hand till I found the concealed button. A press, a swoosh, a light tugging at my back and a shift in balance. I felt behind me and noticed the shape of a full-sized scabbard. It was a bit of a paradox. Even at our peak, all of our living warriors could be counted on both hands yet still we went so far as inventing collapsible scabbards.

A collapsible scabbard is quite an ingenious design. It is commonly known that as a sword grows in length, the potential damage it can do increases. At the same time though, a larger scabbard is needed to hold the blade and large scabbards tend to get in the way of the limbs. As a result, many people are forced to either keep their scabbard under control with one hand or move carefully and slower than they should. On the other end of the spectrum, there are those who simply use no scabbard at all or throw the scabbard away at the onset of battle, therefore keeping maximum mobility and both hands. But storing a sword without a scabbard can be awkward.

Bring in a collapsible scabbard of Dwemer design. As the name suggests, it is capable of folding up into a small volume, perfect for during battle. At the same time, it can unfold and store the sword when out of battle. And it doesn’t end here. Unfolding is done by simply pressing a small button which is located there where it is easy to reach yet won’t be triggered by accident. The folding is fully automatic and triggered by the sword being drawn. Not just that, but a powerful spring literally launches the sword into the waiting hands of its wielder at the same time. The result is maximum comfort, standard storage capacity and one of the quickest draws in Tamriel.

But of course, nothing is perfect. The mechanism was a bit dusty and had to be cleaned before I got the maximum speed out of it. After that, it was back to drawing practice. A sword that draws itself is something else than a sword that has to be forced to leave the scabbard. The first time, I missed completely and had to pull Forgeheart out of the ceiling. The second time, I grabbed to soon and my hands came into painful contact with the pommel. The third time, my thumb got in the way of the hilt. The fourth time, I nailed the timing. Once there, it was a simple matter of practicing till drawing the sword had become as natural as breathing, only a lot more deadly for whoever had the misfortune of standing in the way. After drawing, it was an easy trick to use the push of the spring to power a downward blow, thereby chaining draw and strike together in one really quick motion.

I practiced a bit more just to make sure I’d mastered the trick behind it. Now, I had to wipe the smirk off that Ashvampire’s face. Ok, so he might be immortal, but who said I was going to kill him?

a cliffhanger, of sorts. That's cruel.

Wow, that collapsable scabbard IS a handy invention. I want one!

Unlike some of my other inventions, this one might actually work. The only limiting factor is the size of the springs and gears inside. Too small, and Forgeheart can't be launched properly. Too big, and the whole thing loses its primary purpose as a collapsible scabbard.

Anyway, short one.





The Ashvampire hadn’t lost its smug expression when I rose up out of the pit from on top of the Wing.
,,Well, I must say you’ve managed to impress me. Right now, I thought you were died, turned to ash. Get it? Turned to ash!” He also had a lousy sense of humour. That was not a funny joke. He stopped laughing in the end and got serious.
,,So, did you find the key?” He asked, leaving me no doubt that if I wanted to live, I would give it to him. Or at least, that’s what he thought.
,,Sure, I found it. Why?” I asked and slowly moved closer.

I already knew why the Sixth House desired the keys. Something struck me as odd, though. Voryn Dagoth had been there when Pelinal was activated for the first time. He knew what the keys were. Three swords, all forged by Kagrenac. Trueflame, Hopesfire and Forgeheart. I couldn’t believe he’d actually neglected to tell his servant what exactly he had to look for. Forgeheart’s pommel was not exactly something you’d ignore. Frankly, a polished, glowing gem of Stalhrim that was partially hidden in the mist of its own power would be the first thing it should notice. I looked closer and saw that he had noticed my sword and did not know what to make from it. I couldn’t believe it, but the Ashvampire had no idea what the keys actually were!

,,Good! Give it to me! I’ll let you keep that crummy bit of rust you’ve picked up. I bet you’ve grown attached to it. Isn’t that how you Nords are, all in love with your sword?” Yup, no idea at all. I took one last step closer. I could draw right now but if my plan was to succeed, I had to distract him somehow. But how do you distract an ancient and possibly semi-immortal being?
,,You mean the Dark Elf who’s soiling the floor over there? Nothing special. He was going through this dreadfully boring speech about how he was going to kill me for the greater glory of his lord and blablabla, more of that Guardung. I slipped a sword into his heart while he was working his tongue. I’m a busy guy, I don’t have time for speeches.” The Nerevarine’s words suddenly popped up in my head for no good reason. I had no time to ponder his awfully annoying manners, or his cocky attitude. Cocky attitude and bad manners, that was it!

I brought out the biggest and most smug grin in my life.
,,Sure we do, nothing like a good sword to warm your bed. If it wasn’t necessary for the survival of our people, everyone would be marrying swords instead of women. Now why don’t you hobble over to good old Voryn and give him a message? Tell him that I believe he’s the most sorriest bit of wet meat I’ve ever met. To actually hang out with losers like you, so disappointing. From a friend of Nerevar, I’d expected better.” I quipped. The Ashvampire flew into a rage, both due to the insults I’d aimed at his master and the insult I’d aimed at him.
,,Pathetic left-over of the Dwemer! I’ll take your key, and your life!” He shouted and lunged at me.

I brought an arm up behind me. With a swoosh, Forgeheart flew up into my waiting hand while the scabbard began to fold. I used the momentum of the sword to launch myself forward. Being already in the air, the creature could not avoid my attack. The ancient blade bit deep into his chest, searching for the heart that was no longer there.
,,Fool! I already told you, I’m immortal! Is it that hard to get through your thick skull?!” He shrieked when we both landed. Forgeheart was still embedded into its chest. I could see how the ashstorm around us grew a tentacle that reached for the Ashvampire.
,,You can have the key, pointy bit first!” I shouted back at it and released Forgeheart’s true power, which I’d been holding back up to this point.

His body turned white as it began to freeze at a rapid pace. The tentacle made contact with his neck, just when the freezing reached it as well. Forgeheart’s influence jumped over onto the tentacle, spreading through it. I waited, not daring to either pull out the sword or try to push it even further. The ice spread all around me, throughout the ashstorm. The sound of ice shattering and boulders falling rumbled in my ears. The frozen ashstorm could no longer support its own weight. Still, I kept my blade in place. Only an hour later did I remove it and return the sword to its scabbard. I was standing inside a circular wall, with one small arc leaping over to a large statue.
,,I may not be able to kill you, but I can make sure you won’t stand in my way again. Enjoy your new home.” I chuckled and walked away. I mounted the Wing and abandoned the site.



Note: I just realized how powerful I made Forgeheart sound. Freezing an Ashvampire and a whole ashstorm? Now that's what I call uber.

Wow, uber indeed. I'm liking that sword more and more and it's neat that you made Pelinal's keys the swords. Rather ingenius if I do say so. Now I'm very curious as to how he'll get the other two...

Tribunal anyone? Man, Tribunal fan-fics are getting as common as rain. In a good way, we all want to see everyone's different take on that story.

Hmmmm.... Maybe I should write a Tribunal fan-fic once I finally finish Bloodlust

Just kidding - I think I all ready got my next idea planned.