@mALX- Yes, he is a wiser man than he was when he slipped away from home. He still has some growing to do, though. Thank you so much; your words always cheer me.

@SubRosa- Mostly, I had trouble with split infinitives. “Man was not meant to know”- which is why we have Teresa and Ada and Maxical. I think the brief dream sequences are important to indicate that there is something orchestrating events…

@hazmick- Glad the accent sounds “authentic.” And thank you for reading and commenting.

@haute- Thank you- I want the “quiet” moments to be at least as strong as the “action.” I think we learn more about the characters in those times than any others.

@Acadian- no worries (hee)- the accent is community property; I likely swiped it from someone else. Knowing that Athlain comes to life for you is very encouraging.

@Black Hand- I am dragging that revelation out- but the lycanthropes will eventually raise their furry heads.

@Olen- There will be some more background (from Athlain’s life). The Skaal separation and building of Thirsk is from Thirsk, A History. I think Nords “sound” Scottish because none of us knew how to represent a Scandinavian accent. (I mean how do you write the Swedish Chef?)

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

With the next morning came several realizations-

(1) trying to keep up with Nords in a drinking contest is never a good idea; (2) mead was invented to remind people of (1); (3) there had to be some sort of extra-dimensional explanation for how my head could hurt so much and feel so inflated and still fit through a normal-sized doorway; and (4) whoever came up with the idea of the steam-bath was a saint- no, a god. Addendum- and aforesaid god had probably invented the sauna shortly after failing to heed (1). When I finally reached a point where the falling snow-flakes no longer sounded like an avalanche and the individual hairs on my head did not hurt, I went to find Brynjolfr.

The smith had clearly worked through the night; all of my gear was in better condition than I had ever seen it. He watched as I ran my hand over the silver and bronze horses on the breastplate and tested the mail that protected the armholes while still providing flexibility. The greaves and pauldrons had also been reinforced with new metal- not steel, but the alloy whose composition was a close-guarded secret among the Nords. But even with all the improvements, it was undeniably Imperial Legion armor.

“This is magnificent,” I breathed. Then I shook my head and moved to more practical matters.

“I can’t pay you- not in coin, anyway. I can give you Legion scrip, but I don’t know if that’s any use to you.”

The burly Nord folded his bare arms and blew a breath through his whiskers, expressing his annoyance without words.

“There was no talk of payment,” he rumbled. “If I’d wanted any, I’d ha’ set a price afore I took the job. And look ye- the lass asked me long ago ta do what I could ta keep ye safe, and I gave ma word. If ye want ta return the favor, then stay alive and whole. I have no wish ta be explainin’ ta herself as ta why ye got yerself killed.”

He paused and then brought his great hands down upon my shoulders and shook me gently.

“There’s one other boon I would ask- when this business is all done, and yer time is yer own, bring that sweet girl back here with ye and we’ll all watch the sun set over the lake. That is all the pay I’ll take.”

He released me and turned back to the forge, growling over his shoulder:

“Now be off wi’ ye! How can I miss ye, if ye willna go away?”

While I strapped myself into my armor, I considered how best to obey Brynjolfr’s directive to stay alive. If the rieklings still lurked around Glenschul’s Tomb, I needed to avoid them. That was especially true as there was no way of knowing what dangers the barrow itself might hold. I was supposed to be an officer of the Imperial Legion- and that was supposed to mean something besides a shiny uniform. So I sat down on a bench outside the mead hall and did some thinking.

Rather than trying to solve the immediate problem, I just let my mind wander where it would. I thought about Athynae- about cooking- about rieklings -and about home. And from those scattered thoughts there came an idea. So I borrowed a cauldron from Svenja, and did a bit of cooking myself, if you could call it that. Afterwards, I stood up and cast a spell, gathered the things I would need, and headed south and east, toward the coast and Glenschul’s Tomb.

I surveyed the situation from behind a screen of trees on a low ridge. The distinctively-marked stones of a Nord barrow were below me, along the west side of a gully that ran north and south. Fortune favored me to the extent that the barrow had been excavated into the hillside, with the large stones making a flat-roofed entry. From my vantage, I saw a number of rieklings riding their boars, calling to each other with noises that barely qualified as speech. I shuddered as I watched them; I could still remember the fetid breath of the bristlebacks and the feel of the rieklings’ sharp teeth rending my flesh. Unbidden, an earlier memory came to me, a scene from my childhood:

A picture book was on the table in front of me, a child’s bestiary that had come all the way from Cyrodiil. The printer had decided to focus on the more innocuous creatures of Tamriel- horses and cows and chickens. All of them were drawn to seem friendly and good-natured, including the smiling pink pig lying in a puddle, surrounded by several equally vapid-looking ducks. None of those familiar denizens of the farm could thrive on Vvardenfell, so they were as exotic to me as if they lived on Masser or Secunda.

Curious about these unknown animals, I asked my father what pigs ate. He never patronized me, but always tried to answer my questions honestly. “Pretty much whatever they can get,” he said. I considered that and persisted, “But what? Berries? Kwama eggs? Salt rice?” He glanced at the picture and then away and responded: “Yes- a pig will eat just about anything.” I could tell there was more, but he left the room before I could frame another question. And I had forgotten about it- until I had seen the boars of Solstheim-and what they would eat. “Just about anything.”

I closed the book of memory gently; childhood was long past. The time had come to see if my thinking, planning- and cooking- had been worthwhile, or simply a different sort of fantasy.

A few more minutes of observation confirmed my fear that the rieklings had no intention of going elsewhere. I wondered if their presence near the tomb was coincidence, or a sign of some malign force working in opposition to me. There was no one I could ask, and I did not have the luxury to consider philosophical or spiritual questions. That sort of exercise always seemed to end with dark depression and a hangover, anyway- so best to let it go.

With a resigned shrug, I slid my pack from my shoulders and removed the object I had spent the morning preparing. With an easy underhand throw, I tossed it into the midst of the boars and their masters. The result was all I had hoped for, as the entire mob chased after the large kwama egg rolling across the frozen ground. The ensuing melee was of such violence and ferocity that I almost forgot why I had needed a diversion in the first place.

The exterior of a kwama egg is, by nature, leathery and tough. Since the queen simply drops them on the floor of the burrow, they are often stepped on and knocked about by the warriors until a worker can collect and bury them. Just to be sure, I had spent the morning boiling an egg and then cooling it in a snowdrift outside the mead hall. After such treatment, it was not just leathery- it was well nigh indestructible. But, to the sensitive snouts of the bristlebacks, it still smelled like food.

Disregarding the angry shouts of the riders and the thumping of heels against ribs, the boars became a whirling, grunting, slashing mass of tusks and hooves as they fought for possession of the prize. Almost immediately, a tusk grazed a flank, and the scent of fresh blood turned them against each other. Riders that fell or were knocked off had no chance- they were trampled and ripped to pieces- sometimes not in that order. The same thing happened to boars that were injured- and all the while the kwama egg rolled and bounded amongst them, goading them to still greater fury.

At last, I tore myself away from the spectacle and put my mind firmly back on my task. Quietly, though I needn’t have bothered with stealth, I slid down the side of the tomb’s entry and pushed on the rune-marked door stone. When it slid aside, I stepped into the darkness and shut the door behind me. The air within smelled of draugr- and of something else, something foul. As I fumbled in a belt pouch for a night-eye potion, a quavering howl broke the stillness. It sounded like the call of a hunting wolf, but there was something different- wrong- about the timbre. I swallowed the potion and slid my shield into place.

And I thought ROSA was clever at scheming...


... Athlain seems to have become infected!!!

I would never have thought to use THAT....

FRICKING BRILLIANT!!!

Trey, I suspect you have seen the food-greed of swine in real life. I have, and I can tell the readers that is EXACTLY how they behave - especially if they are a couple of hours away from their last meal...

Ah, an ode to Nordic mead. Like the morning after an elven night of too much Tamika's.

Ahhh, *happy sigh* Superb examples of why I want to write like treydog when I grow up.

This is very vivid. So vivid in fact my mind went to a faraway place. What occurred to me, oddly enough, was a horde of mongol horsemen playing polo with the head of one of their foes. Seriously though, I'm with Foxy - this was incredibly clever of Athlain.

Wonderful, as always, trey!

Athlain, you surprise me once again
For now you are using your brain, Athlain!!

Eh, too early in the morning for poetry, lol. Awesome Write !!!!!!

what is a story if not the set up for a great cliff hanger. and this story shall be known as ''the time when a large group of savage pigs and blue gnomes were defeated by a lone kwama egg''

Brynjolfr sounds JUST like my EMT teacher, she even had that sign around her desk (How can I miss you, if you don't go away.) amongst others of that nature. (Im not hard of hearing, Im trying hard not to hear you.)

Anyways, sounds like he's about to encounter the wimpy bonewolf...wimpy compared to the rest of the Solsthiem's bestiary anyways...

The following contains spoilers in the MQ of Bloodmoon, if you don't want to know, don't click, its not that juicy anyways...

Agreed.

Getting between a sow and her feed trough is like stepping in front of a freight locomotive. Not. A. Good. Idea.

I loved how Athlain used his 'officer's head' to solve the dilemma of the rieklings. It's a great strategy. Now let's hope they're not outside waiting for him when he steps outside the barrow!

"Getting between a sow and her feed trough is like stepping in front of a freight locomotive."


correction, a freight locomotive with a nasty bite.

Ah, but a freight locomotive doesn't need to bite to kill you, does it? The end result is the same - death by sharp tusks or death by 18 tons of steel.

Wait, sows don't have tusks!

I loved this part, the kwama egg was inspired, far better than just another fight. The egg itself reminds me of a particular Tibetan delicacy I've been subjected to a couple of times where you boil eggs for about an hour then leave them hot for a morning, then deep fry them, then curry the resulting squashballs. In hindsight throwing them to the pigs would have been far more satisfying.

I loved this line, it says so much about him, and about Athynae. I think she might have spoken forcefully to him...


Having worked on a farm with pigs I can only agree with what others said. Feeding them was a rather frightening job... but their vicious tendancies made a brilliant plot device.


Sorry for the quote mountain but this line made me laugh. It fits with Athlain's character perfectly and suggests that maybe life on Solstheim is making him go a bit native. And it's a prime example of the dry humour I love in this piece.

Such cunning culinary tactics on the part of Athlain! This is much more interesting than the stock fantasy hero who simply wades into the forest of baddies with his sword and smites them all to dust with his mighty thews.

btw, on the subject of pigs, here in Michigan there was a double-murder case in Leelanau county where the killers fed the remains of the victims to their pigs. It took 18 years for a conviction, because there were literally no bodies left.

The scene with Brynjolfr was the real prize for me. It is a very sweet moment as Athlain realizes that Scord (Scot-Nord) has labored all through the night to not only repair his armor but improve it. Not for money, but rather from friendship. It makes my girly heart pitter-patter.

nits:
It is entirely a matter of personal taste, so more an observation than a nit, but in the first paragraph I think the numbers (1), (2), etc... might read better if they were spelled out as words (One), (Two) rather than using numerals.

btw, on the subject of pigs, here in Michigan there was a double-murder case in Leelanau county where the killers fed the remains of the victims to their pigs. It took 18 years for a conviction, because there were literally no bodies left.


Shades of that Hannibal Lecter Sequel Story!!!

Ever seen Snatch?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4HAQ3pNHwj4

-Viewer Warning not intended for Children.....or people sensitive to graphic descriptions.

Er...this is Foxy you are talking to...right? GAAAAH!

Yes, I have seen -


DANG!!! My Red Riter beat me to the punchline!!!!


My dearest, most humourous, exciting, unpredictable, and prolific Red Riter, will you please stop stealing my punchlines...



...come to think of it, perhaps it's for the best.... I get to stay on this forum.

There was no way to leave that one alone, it hit my email and I spewed all over my keyboard and monitor - if he hadn't quoted you...I would have let it go, but...he did. ROFL !!!

Oh, and...

-Viewer Warning not intended for Children.....or people sensitive to (porno)graphic descriptions


Fixed.

@D.Foxy- Thank you. That is high praise indeed. As to experiences with swine- both “domestic” and feral- there have been a few. One of my earliest childhood memories is of a band of formerly domestic hogs that was abandoned and decided to run riot through our patch of woods. Then there are the European boars that a bunch of idiots decided to import to western North Carolina for hunting. Some naturally escaped and bred with the feral population. They are a plague to this day in the national park.

@Acadian- Brynjolfr is just one of those “take over the keyboard” characters. And he has that hammer- so I decided to leave things up to him.

That is very similar to the image I had in mind- along with a rugby scrum… It’s funny, when I first conceived the scene, I noted that the terrain would allow Athlain to simply jump down from the roof of the tomb and duck inside. But then I remembered the joy of going high into the Jeralls with a bunch of pumpkins or melons and “dropping” them in Oblivion.

@mALX- Thank you so much. I am so happy to have you and Maxical back.

@hazmick- Love the title!

@Black Hand- Yes, he very much has that sort of external personality- hiding a much softer interior. As for the bone wolf- see this installment…

@haute- Yup, pigs are scary, especially large sows. They may not have tusks, but they have very sharp teeth, sharp hooves, lots of weight, and the attitude and cunning to go with it. As to Athlain’s planning, the next part is revealed below.

@Olen- Remind me to avoid Tibetan- “delicacies.” Yes, Athynae tends to make a lasting impression. The line about philosophy and depression was a bit of Athlain channeling Kierkegaard, Camus, etc. I’m glad you appreciated the humor behind it.

@SubRosa- With so many examples of clever solutions instead of brute force, I felt I had to step up my writing. Plus, Athlain actually is supposed to be intelligent, even though he forgets it a lot of the time.

There was also a Canadian serial killer who used his pigs to dispose of the evidence…

Naturally, Brynjolfr is another father-figure for our boy- who I hope is slowly realizing he actually has a father, and a good one.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The interior of the tomb took on the faded cast typical of a night-eye potion, as if I viewed the world through a piece of green glass. Still, it was enough to see that there were mage-fires burning in stone bowls set at intervals along the rough walls of rock and earth. There were also two draugr waiting just inside the entry, so I set myself to take their charge. As I had learned, they were terribly strong, but neither fast nor coordinated. And I was pleased to note that their claws barely made a mark on my refurbished armor. The sound of shuffling feet came from deeper inside the tomb, so I left the blackened bodies and moved to the left hand passage.

As I rounded the corner, I discovered the source of the strange howl that had greeted me when I first entered the barrow. It was one of the worst things I had ever seen. An apparition in the shape of a wolf confronted me with bared teeth- and bare bones where muscle and fur should have been. It was a parody of a wolf, a ragged, skeletal creation that appeared to have been assembled by someone with neither skill nor patience. Worst of all, whoever had committed this travesty had shown no respect for the noble predator thus represented. Disgust roiled my stomach as I prepared myself for a difficult battle.

As it transpired, the creator of the “bone wolf” had stinted on the animating force as well as the crafting of the beast. I brought down my mace upon its head and the entire construct flew apart, bones and scraps of fur scattering in a wide spray. That result had less to do with the power of my attack than with the tenuous nature of the magic that had held the creature together. As I shook my head, a word and a picture from that long-ago book came to mind- a scarecrow. It was simply a flimsy mockery of a real wolf, designed to scare intruders, but otherwise useless.

For the rest, there were a number of additional draugr and “scare-wolves,” which were more in the nature of an annoyance than a threat. Still, I was glad I had not fought the rieklings outside first. If I had been badly hurt, low on magic and restoratives, the story might have been quite different. But, thanks to Brynjolfr’s craftsmanship and Athynae’s potions, I reached the back of the inner burial chamber with only minor wounds.

In front of a wall niche at the western end of the tomb was a woven bag large enough to hold myself and a close friend or two. The top was knotted shut and I did not hesitate, but untied it and opened the mouth of the bag wide. A stiff wind buffeted me for a few moments, carrying with it the scents of the seasons- summer sun, dry leaves, swirling snow, and spring rain. Then all was still once more. However, something within the barrow had changed. I looked around and saw that the wind had scoured away all traces of the undead I had fought. That was well, for I had not looked forward to the prospect of trying to burn them in the close confines of the tomb.

My task in Glenschul’s Tomb accomplished, I followed the second part of my plan and spoke the words of a spell. Shaking off the momentary disorientation of teleport magic, I was pleased to find myself standing just outside the mead hall. Earlier, while I had been thinking instead of simply reacting, I had remembered watching Athynae disappear in a flash of magic- once from this very hall and once from beside the airship. And I had realized that I could do the same, more or less. So I had set my teleport locus here and then recalled to it when I was finished in the tomb. As far as I knew, the rieklings and bristlebacks were still fighting over the kwama egg, and I hoped the struggle would put paid to all of them. My only regret was that it had taken me so long to remember to use the amulets my father had left for me. Actually, as I contemplated the long, frozen walk back to the Wind Stone, I had an additional regret- that I had not done my thinking- and spell-casting- there instead of at Thirsk.

I could hear the sound of singing from inside the hall and the tapping of Brynjolfr’s hammer upon his anvil, but I did not seek the company of others. My feet were once more upon the path of the ritual, and I felt that I must hold myself apart until it was finished. With that thought, I turned north and west, returning to the Wind Stone. When I touched the curved lines, the Stone began to glow and the voice said,

You have done well. The Winds will allow the people to once again feel the spirit of the All-Maker in their souls.

I paused then, letting the breeze blow over me. Perhaps it was just my imagination, but it seemed less chilly than before, with a promise of spring flowers. And I remembered the final words of the Athynae’s note- the one I still carried wrapped inside her scarf:

I will look for you in Ald’ruhn when the flowers bloom.

But Rain’s Hand and Second Seed were far off, and Mother’s garden seemed still farther, no matter how I yearned for the new flower I hoped to find blooming there.

My reverie lasted only a moment- if I did not complete this test and discover the whereabouts of Captain Carius, I would never leave Solstheim- not with my honor intact. Therefore, I studied the locations of the remaining Stones. The Beast Stone was relatively close, south of the Skaal village and east of Lake Fjalding, so I turned my steps in that direction.

This Stone had the most elaborate carving I had seen, a clear representation of the head of a wolf. When I touched the symbol, I was told:

“Travel south. Find the Good Beast and ease his suffering.”

So much had happened since I had read the Story of Aevar that I decided to review the relevant portion before wandering around the wilderness looking for a “suffering beast.” I might find any number of creatures that were suffering without stumbling across the right one- I might also accidentally kill the animal I was supposed to heal. Or perhaps a merciful death was what was intended. Despite what some soppy youngsters believed, nature magic was about a lot more than fluffy animals and unicorns. It recognized that death was a necessary end, a part of the great cycle. The only possible concession to delicate sensibilities was that a quick, clean death was better than suffering. However, that did not seem to be required in this case. According to the story:

Aevar traveled through the woods of the Isinfier for many hours until he heard the cries of a bear from over a hill. As he crested the hill, he saw the bear, a Falmer’s arrow piercing its neck. He checked the woods for the Falmer (for that is what they were, though some say they are not), and finding none, approached the beast. He spoke soothing words and came upon it slowly, saying, "Good Beast, I mean you no harm. The All-Maker has sent me to ease your suffering."

Hearing these words, the bear ceased his struggles, and laid his head at Aevar's feet. Aevar grasped the arrow and pulled it from the bear's neck. Using the little nature magic he knew, Aevar tended the wound, though it took the last bit of his strength. As the bear's wound closed, Aevar slept.

When he awoke, the bear stood over him, and the remains of a number of the Falmer were strewn about. He knew that the Good Beast had protected him during the night.

That helped a bit- I was supposed to look for a bear on an island that seemed to be overrun with bears. Better still, I was supposed to look for a bear with an arrow in its neck, a condition that would probably improve its mood no end. And finally, the arrow would belong to a Falmer- or a riekling, if it was true that they were one and the same.

As I grumbled to myself about obscure prophecies and foolish errands, a memory brought me up short. I seemed to almost hear my father’s voice inside my head, talking about the importance of state of mind when preparing potions:

One thing you will not find in the books or lists of ingredients, but that is equally important, is attitude. If your mind is disordered, your work will be disordered as well. At best, your potion will be weak- at worst, it will fail or else poison the person who uses it. So, at all times, remember why you are doing the work. If you cannot do that, better to leave it for another day.

The same admonition was true of the Ritual of the Gifts- I had to keep in mind why I was going to the Standing Stones and completing the tasks they required and I had to maintain a respectful attitude. Whether or not I carried the blood of Skyrim in my veins, whether I worshipped the Nord gods or no gods, there was some force at work here that had struck a chord deep within me. Each time I completed one of the rituals, it seemed that a part of me I had not even known was missing returned to its proper place. Korst’s words when he had sent me on this quest echoed in my mind:

“If you would heal yourself, you must heal the land.”

Wooo more Athlain A good part, showing him beginging to use his head again, and he seems to be doing better than ever before. Certainly he hasn't shown quite so much drive and direction without being directly ordered since arriving at the island.

On the subject of his growth as a character I hadn't noticed until the pointer that with each of the rituals he is improving a bit from the worst moments. That's a clever device there which I should have noticed much sooner (I'm going to blame the nature of reading a story over several years, certainly when it's finished I will go back and read over the whole thing at once). I suppose that also shows how subtle and naturally the growth is, and how strong the character is.


Kinky...

So is night eye green in Morrowind? I never played enough to find out. Or did you decided to give a nod to modern night-vision with the emerald cast?

The undead vanishing from the tomb after opening the bag was a good touch.

“If you would heal yourself, you must heal the land.”
Once again, I like the Arthurian overtones of Athlain's quest. Here we see him bound to the land, as he suffers, so does it. To heal one, one must heal the other. So Athlain pursues his grail, perhaps to find that it is not the cup that will heal him, but rather the journey itself?

I was wondering how Athlain was going to deal with his little blue boar-riding foes when it came time for departure - very, very clever, Athlain!


Beautiful, with several meanings - all of them relevant here. Brilliant passage.


Quoted for its simple truth.


As ever, I so enjoy seeing Athlain's world through his eyes.

Trey may not be in the story but he's still there.

another enjoyably enjoyable chapter. I recently read the story of 'Aevar the stone singer' when playing Oblivion so my lore of Solstheim is a bit better. Can't wait to see what happens next.

This must explain why Maxical failed alchemy!

Treydog you are covering quests I have not read about in anyone else's story (that I know of - I haven't played any but TES IV) I am so intrigued that I went over this three times before commenting! Your story is filling me with a deep desire to play these quests! Awesome Write, but I knew it would be!!!!!

Damn!

Bestest Friend Acadian beat me to the punch - so I'll just add a 'what he said' to the list of accolades!!!

I have a feeling flower is a metaphore in this sentence.
Loved it Trey.

@Olen- At times, I think I have gone too far in making Athlain seem a bit… foolish. Fortunately, if you are seeing growth in him, perhaps I have not gone completely overboard. About the Bag of Winds- that was just too good an image to pass by.

@SubRosa- Actually, Night-Eye may just be a kind of washed out, pale effect. I was going from memory rather than game-play at that point.

It seemed to me that part of restoring balance and natural order should include the unnatural undead… I am glad that bit of creativity seemed appropriate. A lot of his healing is certainly more mental and emotional than physical- he must find his own center, even as he tries to get to the heart of the mystery.

@Acadian- As noted before, I wanted to “rehabilitate” Athlain a bit, and show that he is starting to do more than simply react. And I have always preferred games, stories, etc. that provide more possible solutions than just- “Shoot everything until it stops moving and then grab the loot.” (Although that is sometimes exactly the right answer!)

Thank you for acknowledging that image- I admit to being rather proud of it. All those years of studying literature finally pay off! And the other passage you quote seems to me a central theme of Bloodmoon- one I had not considered until I started writing this story.

@Black Hand- Yup. Whether Athlain will admit it or not, the other gigantic figure that looms in the background is his own father.

@hazmick- Thank you. I always appreciated the effort Bethesda put into the in-game books, going back at least as far as Daggerfall.

@mALX- If I can impress and intrigue the most clever and creative of story-tellers with my offerings, I am well-pleased. Yes, I think that concept may explain Maxical’s difficulties with alchemy- and maybe her erratic aim. (D.Foxy- look at the “e-word” there closely- it has 2 “r’s” and an “a.” I make no comments about Maxical’s other possible “e-word” aim, despite her interest in Gils- umm, reading material.)

@D.Foxy- Thank you so much for your continued reading and commenting. Your support means a great deal to me.

@Remko- Oh yeah. If I couldn’t throw in some imagery and symbolism now and then, I would have to turn in my Professional Order of English Majors membership card.

And now, the end of Chapter 12.

----------------------------------------------------------------

Freighted with the burden of hope and memory, and the sober realization that this was not simply a game, I turned my face south and walked through the blowing snow, listening for the sound of a bear in distress. What I heard instead were the fell cries of rieklings carried on the wind. I drew my mace and crept through the scattered trees, hoping to see what the blue-skinned gnomes were about, and to avoid them if I could. That last was not going to be possible, as I soon discovered.

Five rieklings were circling a white bear, darting in and out from all sides and dodging away as it vainly swatted at them. They did not seem to be interested in killing the bear immediately, but instead tormented it with shallow jabs and cuts. It was an ugly scene and provoked a terrible fury within me. Without a thought as to what the bear might do, I let loose an inarticulate cry and rushed to its side, using my shield to block a lance even as I swung my mace at a second attacker.

Though the battle madness was upon me, I never lost my concentration. My shout seemed to have frozen the rieklings in place for a moment, but surely that was only my imagination. Fortunately, these gnomes were not mounted on boars, which meant I faced fewer threats. Even on foot they were small and quick, but I was stronger and faster. I danced through that clearing like the very embodiment of Talos; none could stand before me. When it was done, I stood over the battered bodies, chest heaving, and looked to myself for any wounds. To my amazement, I was unharmed. Beyond a few scrapes on the face of my shield, the rieklings had apparently not landed a single blow. Though I was not religious, I felt as if I had just been granted a miracle.

A soft groan brought my eyes back to the white bear, which stood patiently only a few yards away, bleeding from numerous wounds. I put down my mace and shield and approached the bear with my hands open and near my sides. In a quiet voice I said,

“I hope you are the Good Beast, because if you aren’t, I’m going to be very sorry in a few seconds.”

The bear made no sound, but also made no attempt to move away. I uncapped a healing potion and poured it slowly over the wounds, watching as they closed, leaving patches of red blood on the white fur.

Thinking about the words of the story, I reached a careful hand to the thick roll of fur and flesh at the bear’s neck. My probing fingers found the shaft of an arrow buried almost to the fletching. When I touched it, the bear turned its head toward me, and I fought the impulse to jump clear. But the creature simply nudged my hand and then looked at me, its eyes clear and trusting. I muttered,

“This is going to hurt- I only hope they don’t know how to make hunting arrows.”

With that, I knelt in the snow and grasped the shaft of the arrow with my right hand, bracing my left against the muscular shoulder. As I pulled on the arrow, I spoke the words of a healing spell, trying to repair any damage my clumsy surgery might cause. When the wooden projectile finally slid free, I was pleased to note that it had a fire-hardened wooden point, with no indication that a stone or metal head had been attached. Through it all, the bear stood silently, except for a sigh when the arrow was at last removed and the glow of healing magic closed the wound.

Contrary to the original story, I did not feel any desire to rest, regardless of whether the bear would guard me or not. Instead, I gathered my mace and shield, planning to return to the Beast Stone. After I had gone only a few steps, I noticed that the bear was following me. Again, I could only hope that the creature’s actions were because of the prophecy, rather than an interest in the food I carried- or in determining whether I was myself edible.

Together, we followed the east shore of the frozen lake, and it was rather pleasant to have a companion whose silence matched my own. When we reached the Stone, it began to glow and I heard these words inside my mind:

You have returned the Gift of the Beasts. Once again, the Good Beasts will feed the Skaal when they are hungry, clothe them when they are cold, and protect them in times of need.

With those words came a greater understanding of what Skjoldr had said about the split between the village Skaal and those who stayed at Thirsk. It was the difference between those who hunted for the sheer joy of it and those who saw it as a ceremonial obligation. In a strange way it comforted me as I considered the men I had been forced to kill. It was not so simple as good and evil, although I hoped that I had always been on the right side of that equation, as well. It was a matter of balance- if no one did anything about the smugglers and reavers and criminals, the world would descend into anarchy, with the only rule being- “the strongest make the rules.” And that made some of what Carbo had tried to teach me about being in the Legion much clearer, too.

There was only one more ritual to perform; I must find the Tree Stone near the center of the island. If I could complete whatever task it required, perhaps Tharsten Heart-Fang would tell me what he knew of the attack on Fort Frostmoth. And then I would be one step closer to learning Captain Carius’ fate- which would also bring me one step closer to returning to Vvardenfell- and Athynae.

From the markings on the deer-skin drawing, the Tree Stone appeared to be near the headwaters of the Harstrad River. Therefore, I turned west and south, leaving the white bear beside the standing stone. I had entertained a brief hope that the creature might stay with me, but was actually relieved that he did not. If a companion had traveled with me, I would have constantly been worrying and watching lest she come to harm. “She?” It was not difficult for me to deduce from whence that pronoun had come. But I could relax my vigilance on that account- Athynae was safe at Indarys Manor.

The Tree Stone bore a symbol that was a clear representation of one of the straight-trunked, needle-leaved trees that grew upon the island. When I touched the inscription, I heard:

The First Trees are gone. Travel east and find the one who has stolen the Seeds. Beware--he who has the seeds, controls the trees. Plant the First anew.

As I followed the directions, I wondered at the warning- so far, the trees of Solstheim had been the only living things that had NOT seemed intent upon killing me. With a shrug, I loosened my mace and pressed onward. The riddle would no doubt be answered when I found the seed thief.

It came as no surprise when one mystery was replaced by another. Not far from the Stone, I found a group of strange creatures in a grove of trees. They were taller than most men, and seemed to be almost- dancing- around a single riekling. The creatures appeared to be animate trees. Their bodies were clearly feminine, but they were covered with bark- which seemed a part of their skin, rather than raiment. Where their flesh was visible, it was the pale green of new leaves, and their fingers and toes were long and branch-like. I also noted that the “fingers” ended in very sharply pointed claws. I concealed myself behind a tree and watched the scene for a time, wondering if there was a way to avoid fighting with the five tree-creatures.

As they seemed to sway and bow to the lone riekling in their midst, I recalled the words from the Stone- “…he who has the seeds, controls the trees.” Therefore, it seemed that if I could get the seeds away from the riekling, I could convince the enthralled wood-spirits to leave me in peace. I hoped.

Moving as quietly as I could while wearing 60 pounds of armor, I slipped from tree to tree, approaching as near to the riekling as I could. When I was only a few yards away, one of the wood-spirits detected my presence and sounded a shrill scream that alerted the others. There was nothing for it but to draw my mace and charge into the group, trying to reach the blue gnome in the middle.

I soon discovered that my concerns about those sharp claws had been correct; they latched onto my armor and seemed to almost grow into the gaps and seams. But I ignored them as best I could, targeting the riekling who controlled them. It’s just like fighting a Conjurer, I reminded myself. Don’t wear yourself out against the summonings; kill the caster.

It seemed to take an interminable time, but at last I knocked the blue-skinned thief to the ground, and a leather bag fell from his hands. I scooped up the prize and the tree-spirits immediately released me, standing silently by and staring mesmerized at the bag. A quick glance inside confirmed that it contained a single large seed, which seemed to glow with magic.

When I returned to the Tree Stone, it remained dormant, even when I placed the seed at its base. Checking my journal, I realized that I was supposed to plant the seed. The soil where I stood was too rocky; there must be a better place. I cast about and saw a low rise not far away where the ground was clear of stones and a good distance from any trees or bushes. I used my silver dagger to make a deep hole and carefully placed the seed inside, then covered it over. As soon as I did so, the Tree Stone began to glow. The final ritual was done; I had completed the Test of Loyalty. It was time to return to Tharsten Heart-Fang in the Skaal village.

Here Ends Chapter 12

The first sentence was beautiful, it's hard to describe why but I love it

Another good chapter which brings this quest to a close. Athlain still thinks about Athynae but he isn't being crippled by their separation like in previous chapters-a brilliant development of characters.

(unrelated to chapter)-I played on morrowind for the first time yesterday and I now understand what morrowind writers are talking about with Kwamas e.t.c- I am in the process of tracking down the GOTY edition for xbox so I can get into Bloodmoon and get more lore

keep up the good work!!

As ever, such beautiful writing and a joy to read, trey. Thank you.

As a non-MW player, it was great to have what are obviously MW quests described and brought to life in such rich detail.

As is so often the case, I was pleased to see Athlain's thoughts somehow turn, even briefly, to Athynae. It seems he has a constant presence that travels with him. We have some experience with that, and it is a good thing.

Despite the fighting, this was almost a reverently peaceful story. Part of it is perhaps because of the land covered in sound-absorbing snow you conjured. And I think too, because Athlain seems to have some inner peace and confidence that is new, or perhaps always was there. Regardless, quite magical to read.

Oooh! I'll give that another QFT!

Wait, was that a thu’um when he gave his battlecry? His Nord ancestry perhaps?

This was my favorite line:




I am loving these quests! I didn't know about any of them!!!! Awesome write!!!!

Many writers can describe the fury of combat, but few indeed are those who can fuse that with the beauty of the environment .... and the culture which that environment spawns.

You have got the Nordic Mood perfectly, Trey. Congrats.

Treydoggie, my oldest writing-friend, at last I got some time to read through the last installments, it seems as my time to read all the great literature in this section gets less and less....hmm at the moment I have an excuse anyway, preparing for the arrival of My Norwegian Princess takes its time!

Anyway I enjoyed the read immensely! Since I once played all those quests I'm so thrilled to see how Athlain copes. And he copes well, Athynae would be proud of him, really!

A quote that mde me smile, so typical trydoggish

Now back to the Skaal, certainly the test of loyalty has shaped Athlain rather and seen a shift in the direction and feel of the story. He is a particularly good character, to the extent that I can not only guess with fair certainty what he'll do but why and what his thoughts on it will be. Though exactly how much beyond the game will go on I am fascinated to see.


Is he sure... I suspect something will be happening, I even suspect that there might be a hint in the coming interlude. *beseeching puppy eyes*


Rather him than me. A minor thing and really a point of preferance but in general I find it smotther when numbers are written in full.

Anyway I want to see what comes next.

@hazmick- Thank you- every now and again I like to let Athlain unleash the Breton “suffering artist” part of his heritage. You will really enjoy the entire GOTY. One thing- be careful when you sleep after installing Tribunal… Keep a weapon and some restorative potions handy.

@Acadian- I am always pleased when my words are able to paint an effective picture for you. And I very much want this story to be about much more than the fighting…. I hope to emulate yourself and the other brilliant writers here, who write such wonderful conversations and human interactions. And yes, he is finally beginning to free himself of his discontent and unhappiness. That Skaal shaman knows what he is about…

On the Conjurer line, I should really give a hat-tip to Julian of Anvil- I guess that is a staple of Legion basic training that she and Athlain both absorbed…

@mALX- And another place where I owe some credit to another writer. Yes, I was reading Destri’s story again and that thought occurred to me. I already had the “inarticulate cry” in place- just added the (imagined?) paralyzing effect. Of course, Imperials have the Voice of the Emperor power, as well…. So a combination Breton-Imperial-Nord warrior mage on a Skaal vision-quest might discover all sorts of things.

@D. Foxy- Thank you. That is high praise- every writer wants to know that s/he has achieved the desired result.

@minque- Kitties require lots of attention, as our own Juneipurr is prone to remind us at 2:30 a.m. It warms my heart (and Athlain’s, too) to know that you are still watching over us. It has been quite a ride- and it has some time yet to go. I am having a vision- I see Athynae and Serene’s creator with a cup of tea and a sleeping kitty- and they are in front of a computer- writing. And my predictions always come true!

@Olen- You note the less-reliable nature of Athlain’s predictive powers- that is definitely a significant moment. The Interlude has a small hint…

@All- Athlain has finished the difficult Test of Loyalty for the Skaal, and believes that he is close to learning the missing Captain’s whereabouts… But there are old problems that must also be solved- and new people to meet- read on to find out what I mean.

-------------------------------------------------------------



Indarys Manor, Vvardenfell District, Morrowind:

Baria looked quizzically at the girl- “No,” she corrected herself, “the young woman,” standing before her. She took in the armor, the well-worn hilt of the katana rising over her left shoulder - and the striking red hair that went surprisingly well with her blend of Dunmer and Imperial features.

“Yes, Athynae? How can I help you? Are your parents well?”

The usually poised daughter of Serene and Athyn Sarethi fidgeted, right hand twisting the Imperial Legion bracer she wore on her left arm. Finally she straightened and clasped her hands in front of her like a child about to recite a lesson.

“Aunt Baria… I request sanctuary.”


A letter sent from Solstheim to Indarys Manor, Vvardenfell (a portion):

…have considered the problem and realize this is the honorable course. It was wrong to leave it up to you and Mother; I should fight my own battles. This letter will likely find you before I reach Ebonheart, as there are some things I still must do here on Solstheim.


Legion Report on the "Raven Rock Incident" (a portion):

In conclusion, it is my firm belief that Agent Treyson’s actions in no way reflect badly upon the Legion. While it is true that he was working in his own interests, and those of the Company, rather than for the Legion, it is also true that the results were beneficial to the Empire and to this particular region. Other questions that have been raised in some quarters are beyond the scope of my orders and are not germane to this report.

Respectfully submitted,

Julian of Anvil, Pilus Prior, Legio VI, Skyrim

STORY CONNECTION ALERT! READER INTEREST AND EXCITEMENT LEVELS CRITICAL! MORE STORY NEEDED TO AVERT OVERLOAD! please?

DITTO !!!!

trey, how can you drop so many questions and intriguingly delicious hints in so few words? This is gonna be good!

And how!

I've been remiss in commenting the past few days, but not in keeping up with my reading. The last few updates here have been wonderful, trey! I loved this reiteration of the old Aesop's fable of the lion with the thorn in his paw, especially with Athlain's thoughts about whether or not the bear was the Good Beast.

Oh noes! I was so busy blasting super-mutants in the ruins of D.C. that I missed this!

and the sober realization that this was not simply a game
It's not?

Once again, the Good Beasts will feed the Skaal when they are hungry, clothe them when they are cold, and protect them in times of need.
Here you have accurately described one of the basic tenants of core-shamanism. Animals are gods, who have come to earth as flesh and blood. Killing and eating them returns them to their divine Otherworld, and as such is a holy rite that joins the earthly with the divine. For example, among the Ainu, their word for sacrifice means "to send away". It should come as little surprise that many forms of shamanic initiation involve the shaman being killed by an animal, and then reborn with their new power.

I also see that Julian is getting around! I wonder whose F she will appear in next? Perhaps we should take bets?

AWESOMEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!

So Thyna seeks sanctuary...with her mother in law to be??? That is really very interesting, hmmmm. AND the appearance of the most handsome distinguished redguard lady Julian...makes me speechless..gah I got an idea now...hehehe

S.G.M

Loved the Julian of Anvil cameo
The rest was "pretty good" too

Well you managed a fairly high revelation density there... and a Julian Cameo. That was an excellent (and now connects Hautes (and Subrosa's) fiction to the rest though with a slight time wibble). And Athlain's been cleared of dessetion by the sound of it.

It's the middle section which strikes me as most portentious, I think I know who it's from but can't see how he'd have posted it, if I'm right it would be the first contact with his father for a while so maybe it's not from him. But then... well I'm most confused though I'm sure explaination will be forthcoming.

As Minque said: SGM.

It will be a great day
When Athynae
Meets Julian of Anvil
So it will!!!!

Everyone- I considered delaying this a bit longer, just to see how much I could ratchet the tension. But then I thought better of it, because if I don’t hurry, Julian will probably hamstring me as a way of keeping me confined to my writing chair….

The first order of business, then, is a heartfelt “thank you” to haute ecole rider for allowing me to borrow Julian for my story. The idea grew from a casual comment I made in re Julian’s time in Skyrim and the shaky command structure at Fort Frostmoth. Once the seed was planted, I became convinced it was worth nurturing. And haute was wonderfully generous enough to allow me to go forward- and to provide valuable assistance and input.

Second, a note about time. As Olen has pointed out, my timeline does not match with haute’s- or anyone else writing an Oblivion story, really. In fact, it does not match the Bethesda timeline. That is one reason I have been vague about dates- but it can be deduced that Blood on the Moon takes place at least 20 years after Morrowind, which would make it 3E 448 or so. And that is a date that does not exist, except in my alternate universe, where time and events run differently.

As to Julian’s role- all I will say is “read and find out.” As is often the case, I have only the most basic plan and a couple of scenes in mind right now. This will be yet another “journey of discovery” for myself, as well as for you. I hope it meets your expectations.

@hazmick- I wondered who would be the first to see the “Easter egg,” and what the reaction would be. It has been all I could have wished. Hope the following will prevent the “Crossover Crisis.”

@mALX- Thank you so much. Although I am not sure if Athynae and Julian will actually meet in this story… There would surely be some sparks if they did- what with Athynae trying to “rescue” her sweet Athlain from the “Legion bully”- who is just trying to do her job. Hmmmm….

@Acadian- My original concept for this story, long since abandoned, was to have it consist entirely of “documentary” material- i.e., the Interludes. Even though that fell by the wayside, I still like to provide cryptic hints and fragments that pose more questions than they answer. And parts of this chapter will use that method again.

@haute- Again, my thanks for your willingness to indulge my madness and for allowing me to drag Julian along… The Good Beast- there are LOTS of bears on Solstheim, even though only a few are white. And someone as prone to skepticism as Athlain would almost have to wonder- “OK, it’s a bear. But how do I know it’s the RIGHT bear?”

@SubRosa- Welcome back, Lone Wanderer! Of course it’s not just a game! My descendant, Three-Dog, assures me that is so. The lines you noted are directly from the game- someone at Bethsoft apparently did their homework. You never can tell where Julian will appear- for a recovering addict with a bum knee, she sure gets around!

@minque- I knew you would like that bit. Athlain’s plan was good in most ways- the fatal flaw is that his “intended” is now with his mother- and his sisters(!)

@Remko- Thank you- and I am so happy to see more Rales and Zerina.

@Olen-You are correct about the timeline issue; see above. As to the purpose of the investigation, it will be revealed- eventually. The second note was written by Athlain- the meaning will have to wait for a while.

------------------------------------------

Chapter 13

“Agent Treyson, you are not under arrest, nor are you required to answer my questions. However, the Legion and the Empire would appreciate your assistance with our inquiries. If you so desire, you may request counsel before we proceed. Do you understand what I have just explained to you, sir?”

I looked at the tall Redguard Pilus Prior seated across the table from me and tried to read some clue from her demeanor. It was hopeless- her face gave away nothing- green eyes held my gaze steadily, and her mouth was set in a straight line. She did not frown or smile, she just- waited- as if she had all the time in the world, and nowhere she would rather be than that small office at Fort Frostmoth.

My eyes moved from her face, framed by close-cropped black hair, to her uniform. The helmet on the table bore the device of Legio VI, so I knew she must have come from Skyrim. Despite her recent sea-voyage, the uniform was spotless and every bit of metal gleamed as if it had just come from the manufactory. She was, in every way, the image of an ideal Legion non-commissioned officer- tall, straight, muscular, clear-eyed and clear-voiced. In some indefinable way, she reminded me of Senior Trooper Carbo, and I idly wondered if the Legion had some secret facility that produced such consummate soldiers ready-made.

“Agent Treyson? Sir? I ask again- do you understand your rights and responsibilities as regards this inquiry? I should add that if you have any question regarding my right to conduct this interview, I am acting under orders. Do you require counsel, sir?”

I waved away the question and focused on her eyes again. Green eyes, unyielding as High Rock granite…. My mother’s eyes were green, as well, and no counsel could have saved me from one of her “inquiries,” either. Surely that was a sign, though I could not decide if it was good or bad. Finally, I straightened my shoulders and said clearly and firmly:

“I understand my rights and responsibilities. Please proceed.”

The Redguard acknowledged my statement with a quick nod and then turned to the clerk who had seated himself behind her.

“You may go. If I determine that an official witness is necessary, I will send for you.”

Her voice was low and pleasant, but there was steel at its core and the clerk made no protest. He took his writing supplies and left the room, closing the door quietly behind him. Julian laid out her own quill and ink, along with some small, blank leaves of parchment.

Taking the quill in her left hand, she wrote slowly, as if the effort was painful. She made no attempt to conceal the words, and I was quite adept at reading upside down.

23 Frostfall

Inquiry into diverse events occurring on or about the island of Solstheim and pertaining to the East Empire Company’s Raven Rock Colony.

Location: Fort Frostmoth, Solstheim

Lead Investigator- Julian of Anvil, Pilus Prior, Legio VI

Subject- Athlain Treyson, Agent, Deathshead Legion, detached

No one else present at this session

Inquiry opens.

She stopped writing, saying:

"The Legion loves their paperwork. If you and I don't suffer through this now, they'll make us do it over again until we get it right.”

She then set quill and paper aside and focused on me.

“Start with how you came to work for the East Empire Company."




Deponent further states that he was informed by Falco Galenus, EEC Deputy, that evidence existed of Carnius Magius’ corruption. Agent Treyson did not himself see any such evidence at that time, but was asked by Deputy Galenus to “make a choice” as to whom he would assist as regarded the Raven Rock Colony. Deputy Galenus explicitly cast the decision as taking sides with either himself or with Factor Magius. Deponent states that he considered the matter briefly and chose to aid Deputy Galenus.

Note: Agent Treyson noticeably uncomfortable re: Factor Magius, and rather vague re: reasoning behind decision to assist Deputy Galenus. Avenue for further inquiry at later session? Transcript resumes.

One of the first actions undertaken by Agent Treyson was to suggest building a general trader’s shop for the colony, as opposed to a smithy. His work with the EEC was then interrupted by Legion duties- specifically, determining if the Nords indigenous to Solstheim had knowledge of, or were complicit in, the attack on Fort Frostmoth and the disappearance of Captain Falx Carius. Agent Treyson met with Skaal villagers and was required to undertake a Test of Loyalty (see Addendum D) before they would provide any information. Upon completion of this Test, Agent Treyson returned to the Skaal village.

The Pilus held up her hand to signal a halt. “Let’s take a break. Do you want some water? Or would you prefer tea?”

I was not sure that her quick eyes missed my momentary flinch at the word “tea,” but I hoped so. To cover the lapse, I stretched and agreed:

“Yes, all this talking is thirsty work. Tea would be wonderful.”

The clerk was called back in to prepare the tea, and we remained silent while he fussed with the pot and cups.

All too quickly, the respite was over; Julian returned to her seat and I did the same. I had no idea what she was like on the parade ground, but she was certainly tireless and invincible in that interview room. When I had made myself as comfortable as I could, she glanced at the last page of her cryptic notes and said,

“Very well, sir. You returned to the Skaal village. In your own words- what happened next? Feel free to consult your journal, if you like.”

Her face was composed in an expression of polite interest, which did a remarkable job of concealing her actual thoughts. I took a deep breath and resumed the story.

Yes, yes and a thousand times yes! I found Athlain being crippled by Julian's silent power quite entertaining, you and Haute have done a great job with her time in Solstheim. I hope Athlain can survive the rest of the interview!

...Maybe that is how Julian's knee got injured...????



And...GAAAAAAH! Not enough...MORE... * mALX imploded in front of PC *


*

This was great fun.

I care not a whit for making the times or all the details match up when characters cross stories. It is plenty good to imagine that this happened when Julian was still in the Legion, well in advance of her current story. I applaud you both. It was fascinating to see Julian in the prime of her Legion career.

Athlain, as ever, was wonderful. Like someone else I know, one of the times that he shines brightest is when being used as a vessel or foil to draw out the beauty of another character. Athlain's spirit is so selflessly giving in that way. It is one of the things that make him so very, very endearing.

Wow! Thats one heck of a character cameo/inclusion (have no idea what the depth of her involvement will be.) Well done yet again Trey.

That is one serious hearing. Love how you have consequences to Athlain's "desertion"