ghastley -

Acadian - Cirinwe is quickly becoming a rather talented adventurer. Maybe she'll get her own story one day.

Everyone - Goodness me, has it really been a whole year since I last wrote something!? I intend to finish this story over the next few weeks/months, so thank you for your patience and continued support.



Previously - Haa-Rei managed not only to disrupt the summoning ritual, but also to bind a powerful Daedroth to his service as a new summon. Wounded but victorious, Haa-Rei met with Cirinwe outside the ruins and began heading back to Anvil. Almost immediately a familiar sound echoed around the countryside - an Oblivion gate...

Chapter 76



The gate had opened by the time we returned the city. Guardsmen had already rebuffed the initial daedric force and set up a perimeter around the gate. To get a better vantage point, Cirinwe and I climbed up the stairs leading to the city walls. The gate was quite close to Anvil, clearly the daedra had been aiming for the city itself, but I was in no shape to help. Instead I sat myself down on a nearby crate and peered over the walls.

“Sit still, you’ll reopen your wounds.” Cirinwe lay a firm hand on my shoulder to keep me on my seat, while her other hand wove restoration magic over my recent injuries.

“Sorry, I’m just trying to get a good view.”

I had been impressed by the guard’s swift response, but now the situation was at a standstill. Nobody from our side was going in, and the daedra were sending out a steady stream of scamps to throw themselves at the defenders. This had the potential to keep going on for hours, if not days.

“You are absolutely not going to jump into an Oblivion gate in your current condition.” Cirinwe sensed what I was thinking, and her firm hand remained on my shoulder. She was right, of course, in that my wounds were only just healing and needed an hour or two to let the magic properly do its work.

“I know, I know. It just feels...wrong not to lend a hand.” I patted the slender hand on my shoulder and stretched my arms a little, just to check they were still working.

“I agree, which is why I’ll go and close the gate while you stay here.” Cirinwe replied casually.

“You...you’re going to what now?” I almost fell from my seat in shock.

“It’s as you said, someone should help them.”

“Yes but I meant…” I struggled to find the correct words.

“Yes?” Cirinwe folded her muscular arms over her chest while she waited for my answer.

“I don’t...I didn’t mean…” I stumbled over my words for a second before I noticed the faint smile playing across her lips. “You’re teasing me. Poor, wounded Haa-Rei being teased by the cruel Elf.” I clutched my chest in mock agony, causing Cirinwe’s smile to crack into a laugh.

“I’ll be careful, and if it looks too risky I can just jump back out of the gate. While I’m gone you can look round for Trivea’s friend, since that’s why we came here in the first place.” Cirinwe the Adventurer seemed to have it all planned out, and so I gave her a reluctant nod. I knew she could handle herself, but when the person you love is going to leap into a screaming fire portal to another dimension, you can’t help but worry.

We made our way down the steps to ground level, and parted ways just inside the town gates. A small crowd had gathered to try and catch a glimpse of the exciting action, and a couple of guards were holding them at a safe distance. Everyone parted to let Cirinwe through, and I watched as she disappeared through the crowd and out into the wilds.

My own journey led in the opposite direction, towards the docks. Often the best place to look for someone, I found a suitable looking tavern and made my way inside. An empty table in the corner provided a perfect seat from which to view the other patrons, so I dug around in my pack until I found Trivea’s note. It was unsurprisingly vague, but at least I now knew that Trivea’s friend had a name, ‘Tsarakiri’, and that they were a Khajiit.

The tavern was getting quite busy, and of course a large portion of the patrons were Khajiit sailors. Short of standing up and calling for my contact by name, I wasn’t really sure how to proceed with the search. After a short while, however, I was approached by a slender Nord woman who gestured to follow her:

“Captain Tsarakiri wants a word.” Her accent was thick, and reminded me of some of the Nords I’d met on Solstheim. I decided against asking any questions though, and simply nodded before following her out the door.

We made our way along the docks, weaving around merchant stalls and groups of sailors. I was wondering which ship belonged to the Captain, but we kept moving beyond the docks and around the rocky coast, eventually arriving at a large cave entrance. The entrance was all but hidden from the outside due to the shape and position of the rocks and cliffs, but inside was a space large enough to house a ship, with what appeared to be the remnants of a second ship acting as a house or hall of sorts. The cave was crisscrossed by wooden walkways and rope bridges, providing easy access to upper levels. I followed the Nord up several walkways to reach the ship-hall, a large set of doors had been built into the side of what was once a hull. A series of knocks announced our arrival, and the heavy doors swung open.

The interior was not something I was expecting. Rich tapestries and paintings hung on the walls, the floorboards were covered in lush carpets, and the sound of music and laughter echoed along the hallway. Perhaps my injuries were more severe than I thought and I was hallucinating.

“In here.” My guide stopped abruptly, pointing at a side door. I stepped inside, and was immediately engulfed in a cloud of incense. It smelled strangely sweet, and I quickly recognised the smell as moon sugar. The room was otherwise dark, though I could sense someone else.

“Welcome to this one’s home, Trivea’s Friend.” A smooth Khajiit voice purred out of the smoky gloom at the back of the room. My eyes slowly adjusted to the dark, and I could eventually make out the figure behind the voice.

“Captain Tsarakiri, I presume?” The Captain was dressed in a light shirt and baggy trousers, as one might see in depictions of Khajiit or Redguard travellers in the desert. Her fur was white, with black markings, and her white hair was fashioned into a long knot of dreadlocks woven with trinkets and treasures. Her yellow eyes regarded me for a few seconds before she rose to her feet and bowed politely.

“It is as you say. This one is Tsarakiri, terror of the seas, hunter of slavers, lover of women, friend to Trivea. You are Haa-Rei, adventurer, scholar, and also a hunter of slavers, if this one hears correctly.” Tsarakiri produced a slip of parchment and waved it briefly before pocketing it again. I couldn’t read it, but recognised Trivea’s writing.

“Yes. Trivea said you have a slaver problem, something to do with the port authority?” I waved my hand at a thick plume of incense, producing a smile from my host.

“Just so. The problem is that the slaver is alive, and this one needs your help to change that. It promises to be a most exciting and profitable adventure.” The Khajiit grinned and returned to her seat on a pile of large cushions, gesturing me to do the same.

I wasn’t sure what I found more terrifying: potentially joining some pirates to fight a slaver, or Cirinwe’s wrath when she discovered that I had gone off on an adventure in my recently wounded state.

“Alright. What’s the plan?”

At least the adventure with the good Khajiit captain will keep Haa Rei’s mind off of Ciri’s own adventure in that Gate! Though I suspect Ciri’s wrath is the greater of the two evils . . .

That it will be an adventure is almost guaranteed, interesting, yes, but profitable? Depends on how you define profit = coming out with a trunk full of valuable junk, or coming out with life and limb intact . . .

Wonderful to see my favorite odd couple – Scales and Scars – back in action again!

Hmm, circumstances conspire to keep the pair adventuring separately.

Oh, I loved that Thieves Den DLC in Oblivion – made for the perfect little ‘pirate town’.

More Argonian excellence! You descriptive powers are as strong as ever, and the interplay between the characters is a delight as always.

So happy to so this story commence once again!

And we have a pirate in a light shirt and baggy pants, just as ZOS release the pirate bundle for Talk Like a Pirate Day. I assume that's exactly the outfit the captain's wearing?

Of course he's going to take this just as slowly as he needs to heal properly. This is just at the planning stage, and his head's not wounded, so he can still think.

Haute - Honestly I think the true racial ability of Altmer is to be able to kill people with a stern look.

Acadian - Thanks! I always thought it was a neat little area that the DLC added, and it was actually because of that DLC that Tsarakiri was first created back in the day.

treydog - Thank you! Glad to have you on board, trey.

ghastley - That's the one! Tsarakiri uses it as her casual outfit in game, it's such a great look.



Previously - Haa-Rei and Cirinwe returned to Anvil, watching from the walls as local guardsmen did battle with an Oblivion gate. Knowing that they needed help, Cirinwe went down to assist, leaving Haa-Rei to search for the mysterious contact. He soon found himself face to face with Pirate Captain Tsarakiri, who asked for his help taking down a nearby slaver...

Chapter 77



“So, to recap, we wait for nightfall so you and I can sneak aboard the slaver’s ship and...put him out of business, meanwhile your crew will remain here to fend off an impending attack by the slaver’s own crew of violent criminals.” I summarised Captain Tsarakiri’s plan and glanced at her for approval.

“Just so.” The Khajiit purred. “You have questions?”

“Well... why me? Surely another of your crew could accompany you.”

“We need an Argonian to swim aboard and silence the watch. Also, we need someone who cannot be infected by vampires.”

“You forgot to mention vampires earlier.” I sighed. This would complicate things.

“The slaver is a vampire, of course. This one cannot be turned, and Trivea assures this one that you can’t either.” The Captain shrugged, clearly not believing vampirism to be a relevant factor in the plan.

“May I ask why you’re immune?” I was fairly certain that Tsarakiri was neither a werewolf or a vampire.

“This one was almost turned once, but cured by Trivea. Been immune ever since.” It was a rather vague explanation, but it would have to do.

“Well, that’s handy. I suppose-” I left my sentence hanging in mid air as I heard familiar footsteps outside. “Ciri?”

Tsarakiri was first on her feet, and led me out of the smoky room and out into the corridor again. Ciri was waiting, accompanied by another of the Captain’s crew. The Captain moved all around Ciri, looking her up and down.

“Trivea’s note failed to mention how pretty the Elf was.” The Khajiit purred. The nearby crew member nodded in agreement.

“A pleasure to meet you.” Cirinwe greeted the Captain politely, but folded her arms over her chest sternly, causing the Captain to chuckle.

“It’s good to see you again, are you alright?” I asked. She looked none the worse for wear considering she’d just been to Oblivion and back.

“Yes, everything’s all sorted now. I must say, I wasn’t expecting...this” She gestured to the richly decorated interior.

“Fate has been kind to this one and her crew. Come, come.” Tsarakiri gestured for us to follow and headed deeper into the hideout.

The corridor led to a large set of doors, which opened into a wide, high-ceilinged room. The floor was covered in an assortment of rich rugs and carpets, while the walls were draped in all manner of expensive materials. What appeared to be the rest of Tsarakiri’s crew was gathered here, drinking and chatting amongst themselves. I noticed that more than a few of them bore scars on their wrists and necks, similar to scars I’d seen on slaves in Morrowind. The chatter stopped as we entered and the group began to gather. Clearly they’d been waiting for us.

“Alright girls, settle down and listen up.” Tsarakiri raised her voice enough to be heard throughout the room but not so much that she was shouting. “Allow this one to introduce our guests, Haa-Rei and Cirinwe.”

I received a few looks of suspicion when I was introduced, though most of the group were more interested in Cirinwe. A couple whispered amongst themselves and giggled, clearly quite taken with the Altmer visitor. Cirinwe looked a little nervous, crossing her arms again.

“They’ll be assisting us this evening. For the benefit of those that haven’t been paying attention recently, this one will go over the plan again.”

Tsarakiri left out the bit about the vampire, but added in a new piece of information. While she and I sneak aboard the slaver’s ship and deal with him, Ciri would remain here to help the crew. Tsarakiri was expecting the slaver’s men to strike soon, and wanted a skilled warrior to be here to help.

Cirinwe the Skilled Warrior looked a little surprised to hear her role in the plan, but managed to hide it well. She would definitely be an asset. Most of the crew wore simple clothing like their captain, with only a few wearing bits and pieces of leather armour. Presumably there’s not much call for heavy arms and armour on a ship. With the talk finished, the group dispersed and Tsarakiri turned to Ciri and I.

“When exactly will this be happening?” Cirinwe asked.

“As soon as our lookout tells us that the slaver’s men are on their way. Should be shortly after nightfall, so maybe an hour or two. This one is sorry to put this on you out of the blue, rest assured you will both be compensated for your assistance.” Tsarakiri gave a little bow along with the apology, and Cirinwe’s stance softened a little. “Please, help yourself to a drink with the crew while we wait.”

Cirinwe nodded and began heading towards the nearest group, but stopped and turned when she realised I wasn’t following. “You’re not coming?”

“Ah, no. I’m probably better off staying over here for now.” I could imagine why men may not be welcome on an all-female crew of people who may be former slaves. Tsarakiri nodded in agreement.

“Apologies for not mentioning earlier. Some of the girls are...not comfortable around men. No reflection on yourself of course.”

“Oh, I see.” Cirinwe realised what the captain meant and glanced at me apologetically.

“Don’t worry about it, I understand.” I felt bad for leaving Cirinwe to face the group alone, but of course my worries were unnecessary.

One of the crew, a dark-haired Breton, detached from the group and approached Cirinwe, a goblet in each hand. “Here, have a drink. It can be a bit scary to meet everyone at once. You can sit with us.” She beamed up at Cirinwe and handed her one of the goblets, gesturing to a smaller group of the crew behind her.

Cirinwe thanked the Breton and followed her over to the group, glancing over her shoulder at me. I gave her a thumbs up, prompting a little smile. The group was soon chatting away, mainly amongst themselves but directing a few questions at Ciri to prevent her from being too overwhelmed.

“Looks like she’s in good hands.” I said to myself, but immediately noticed Tsarakiri still lurking in the shadows next to me.

“The best,” The Captain smiled proudly. “She’d be more than welcome to join us after our current business is concluded.”

“I’m not sure she’s done much sailing before, but you could ask her.” I shrugged, not really sure that Cirinwe would take up the offer.

“Sing, Sing!” I few voices from the crew distracted the captain and I from our chat. Most of the group had gathered around the dark-haired Breton girl that had approached Ciri. Clearly she was something of a singer amongst the crew.

“I can’t sing if there’s no music, and Sebille can’t play what with her arm and all.” A Dunmer woman, presumably Sebille, had one arm in a sling and shrugged apologetically.

“What about the Altmer, highborn ladies always know how to play.” A particularly astute Orc nodded at Cirinwe, turning the crew’s attention on her.

“Erm...well, a little. Though I haven’t played for a few decades, and I only know Altmer songs.” Her face was flushed with colour as the group scrutinised her for any signs that she may well be a master musician.

“It’s fine if you don’t want to,” The Breton assured her, “if it helps, you can just look at me when you play. Ignore the rest of them.” She grinned, patting Cirinwe’s hand.

Cirinwe nodded, and immediately had a lute thrust into her hands. She removed her gauntlets, her slender, scarred hands familiarising themselves with the strings. She played a few experimental notes, apologising every time she made a perceived error.

“Just me and you. Play whatever you like and I’ll match a song to it.” The Breton placed her hands on Ciri’s shoulders, turning the Altmer slightly away from the group so the two were facing each other. She then took one of Ciri’s hands in her own and gave it a slight squeeze, before releasing it and taking a couple of steps back. I couldn’t help but smile to myself.

The notes were played slowly at first, a little shakily, but Ciri quickly found her rhythm. The Breton tapped her foot along to the melody for a few seconds before matching some words to it. The rest of the crew were utterly silent, their attention fixed firmly on the performance. Tsarakiri and I stood at the back, the Khajiit tapping one hand against her arm to the rhythm. It was a beautiful song, and to Ciri's credit there didn't seem to be a note out of place.

As soon as the song finished, the whole room erupted into applause and cheers. Cirinwe turned in surprise, clearly having forgotten that there was an audience. She blushed right up to the tips of her ears, but gave a little bow nonetheless. The Breton bounced over, taking Ciri’s hands and clapping them together. A small group had formed around them, all chatter and laughs. Maybe it would be good for Ciri to join them, even just for a little while.

The festivities weren’t to last though, as a breathless woman entered the room:

“Captain, they’re on the way.”

The music, for those that would like a multimedia experience.

Wait, is that Cirinwe singing? That is AWESOME !!!!!

A delightful episode as Haa-Rei and Cirinwe reunite after their individual successes. Only for a new separation to present itself as they plan to split forces once again.

Buffy and I were grinning during Ciri’s wonderful performance – another musical elf who blushes after performing right up to the tips of her ears. * contented sigh *

This one is just glad no female cats were singing.

mALX - Cirinwe just plays, singing isn't her thing

Acadian - If we find one more musical elf we can start a girl band/idol group and take Tamriel by storm!

ghastley - Yes, there's a reason you don't see many Khajiit bards



Previously - Cirinwe joined Haa-Rei in the pirate hideout, and the group went through the plan once again. Haa-Rei was tasked with joining Tsarakiri in an infiltration mission to the slaver's ship, while Cirinwe was to stay behind and help defend the crew against an incoming attack. After a brief moment of respite, a scout reported incoming enemy forces...

Chapter 78



The hideout was buzzing with activity as the crew scrambled to their positions. When the slaver’s men arrived, they’d be fighting up walkways and rope bridges, across narrow platforms, all under a hail of arrow fire and spells. Almost all of the walkways were held up by ropes which could be cut if necessary, funnelling the enemy into specific routes. The crew would fire and retreat as the enemy moved in, eventually meeting them outside the hideout’s main doors. It was here that I said goodbye to Cirinwe before heading off on my own mission with Tsarakiri.

“Not sure which one of us has the easier job, but I shan’t be long.” I grinned at Ciri as I watched more of the crew emerge from the hideout with quivers of arrows.

“Just be careful, I won’t be able to rescue you this time.” Cirinwe nudged me playfully and gave me a quick hug. “See you in a little while.”

“And you.” I nodded and turned to look for Tsarakiri.

The captain was already halfway to the exit, so I jogged to catch up. She looked nervous, but not for herself.

“They’ll be fine. Ciri’s with them.” I assured her.

“If she fights as good as she looks, the girls can take it easy.” The Khajiit chuckled to try and lift her own spirits.

We quickly made our way out of the cave and further along the shore. A small boat was hidden behind some rocks, and we dragged it into the water. I’m better in the water than on top of it, so Tsarakiri took charge of the rowing, moving us a little ways out to sea.

“Which ship are we after?” I asked, scanning the area. Night had fallen, but the moon had yet to rise, the water had turned an inky black which nearly matched the sky. Several vague shapes of ships could be seen between us and Anvil, with various torches and braziers flickering like tiny stars.

“We’ll know it when we-” Tsarakiri paused as one of the ships was suddenly illuminated by a bright beam of light, “see it.”

“What on Nirn is that?” I asked. The light seemed to emanate from the ship’s deck, and was being shone across the water, moving in a sweeping arc to illuminate a pretty significant area of the water’s surface.

“They use some sort of brazier and mirror set-up, like a lighthouse. Makes it impossible to approach by boat without being seen. If the slaver knows we're here, he'll be gone in a flash.”

“Which is why you needed an Argonian.” I noted.

“You just need to smash the mirror, then this one can move up nice and easy. Best do it quietly though, eh?” Tsarakiri handed my a wicked looking knife, which would be more useful than my sword at dealing with anyone on the deck.

“Alright, quickly and quietly.” I removed most of my gear, as always just retaining my greaves, and secured the knife on my belt before slipping into the water.

I immediately dove several feet deeper and waited for my eyes to adjust to the gloom. The sea floor was thick with seaweed, and I moved a little closer to reduce the risk of being seen. I looked around to get my bearings before heading towards the boat. The beam of light could be seen quite clearly from below, though the light didn’t seem to penetrate the darkness of the sea. I moved slowly and deliberately, even though the chances of getting spotted were incredibly slim.

Once I reach the ship, I slowly swam up to the surface and broke the water and quietly as possible. The current on the far side of the ship was strong, and I had to take a few moments to catch my breath. Scaling the side of the ship was easy enough, as it was sitting low enough in the water to allow me to reach some easy handholds. Once near the deck, I peered over the side to assess the enemy numbers.

There were only two sailors up top. They were chatting amongst themselves as they took turns at rotating the large mirror, casting the light from side to side. If they were moving it, then logically there should be at least one lookout. I strained my eyes to see up to the crow’s nest, and could just make out someone’s shape. Getting up there and dealing with them without being spotted would be tricky.

With the two mirror men otherwise engage in a fairly spicy conversation about the bald one’s last visit to the brothel, I clambered up towards the crows nest. Every creak of rope sounded as loud as an angry dremora, and I stopped to glance down at the sailors about a dozen times before reaching the top. The sailor in the crow’s nest was humming a tune to himself, and I slipped in behind him as he let out a large yawn. I held his body to prevent it from falling onto the deck below, and wiped the now-bloodied knife on his shirt. The wind, hardly noticeable down on the deck, seemed to whip around the crow’s nest quite fiercely. I looked over to where I thought the cave entrance was, and silently hoped everyone was alright.

The climb back down was even slower than going up, but I was soon back on the deck. Now how to deal with two people at once? I waited a few more moments before an idea popped into my head, and I turned and leapt back into the water with a loud splash. As soon as I was below the surface I turned and swam under the ship, surfacing on the other side and quietly clambering back up to the deck, shielding my eyes against the dazzling light contraption.

As I’d hoped, both mirror men had moved to the far side to investigate the splash. One was leaning far over the side of the ship with a lantern, trying to see what had made the noise. He turned when he heard his friend gasp, and would have yelled out if I hadn’t clamped a hand over his mouth. My other hand brought the knife up to his chin, and he tumbled overboard.

I took a few moments to catch my breath before moving over to the mirror. Rather than smashing it noisily, I simply turned it around, cutting off the beam of light. A short while later, Tsarakiri appeared on board.

“Well done friend, well done.” She patted my shoulder as I handed back her knife. She’d also brought my gear with me, so I quickly got dressed. “Captain’s cabin should be this way. Just follow my lead.”

I could smell him before we entered the cabin. The smell of death and dust that I’d smelled on vampires before. The door to his cabin was decorated with a golden set of chains, and opened smoothly.

The inside of the cabin was richly decorated with old sigils of Dunmer House Dres, and there were stacks upon stacks of documents. It looked as if the slaver conducted all of his business from here. The ‘man’ himself smiled widely when he saw us enter, standing up from behind a wide desk at which he’d been writing. His arms opened wide in welcome, not showing as much surprise or alarm as I'd hoped.

“Ah, Captain Tsarakiri I presume! And I see you’ve brought a pet!” He inhaled deeply through his nose, obviously catching my scent. “I don’t allow animals on board you know, at least not without chains.” His face was thin and hungry, clearly he hadn’t fed for a while. His eyes had a cold, cruel glint to them. “I’d thought finding the location of your little hideout was too simple, presumably the men I sent are being lured into a clever trap.”

“And slaughtered, yes.” Tsarakiri finished, slowly drawing a pair of curved daggers.

“No matter, they are easily replaced. I had originally estimated to lose about half of them in the attack, though I can’t imagine you’d leave your crew unless you had a suitable replacement to assist with the defence.” He glanced at me, then back to Tsarakiri. “Still, any costs incurred this evening will be covered in the long run. If any of your crew are left alive I’m sure they’ll fetch a fair price. Not sure about the worth of your current companion though.”

“Then allow us to demonstrate our worth.” Tsarakiri hissed, lunging across the room. The slaver merely smiled, parrying her attacks with wicked black claws.

I cast the spell that I’d been readying, and the room was filled with the screeching sound of summoning magic as Xuu Gar the Daedroth growled into existence. His massive frame filled the room, and was enough to give the slaver pause.

“Not bad.” The vampire laughed, a backhand swipe sending Tsarakiri flying across the cabin to land heavily against a bookcase.

Xuu Gar didn’t wait for instruction, immediately sending a gout of flame at the slaver which caught him on the arm. The vampire howled and leapt forward in a flurry of claws and teeth, but the Daedroth stood his ground and traded blow after blow as the fire began to spread quickly through the paper-strewn cabin. I pulled Tsarakiri to her feet and led her out of the cabin, up onto the deck. A few moments later, the cabin seemed to explode in a shower of burning splinters, the slaver tossed onto the deck like a doll. Most of his body had already been burned beyond recognition, his once rich robes turned to blackened tatters. Xuu Gar marched onto the deck, standing before the slaver, ready to strike the killing blow. He turned to me for instruction, and I nodded grimly. A quick strike, and the vampire was no more.

Xuu Gar was covered in deep claw marks, thick black blood dripping onto the deck, but I could feel his sense of triumph. I thanked him, dismissing him with one hand while I supported Tsarakiri with the other. The Khajiit was winded and bleeding, but alive. I helped her into the boat and took the oars myself, slowly rowing back to dry land as the slaver’s ship was engulfed in the mercilessly hot daedric flames.

“Well, Trivea was right about you. It seems this one owes her a drink.” Tsarakiri winced as she fished a healing flask from her bag, gulping down the bitter medicine.

“Let’s hope the others have been as successful.” No time to revel in our victory, I rowed as fast as I could, my arms and lungs burning from the effort. I had a heavy feeling growing in my chest, my instincts telling me that something was wrong.

A short while later and we made it back to the cave, Tsarakiri now able to walk on her own. The crew were pleased to see us return, but they all looked worried too. Tsarakiri stopped to ask some of the girls what had happened, but I couldn’t wait and made straight for walkway leading up to the door. The wooden bridges were strewn with bodies, all slaver’s men. Arrows littered the ground, and the air crackled with residual destruction magic. A couple of the walkways had been cut down, and I had to take a longer route to reach the door. There was a small group huddled there, who parted to let me in.

“Ciri…” I could barely speak. There was Cirinwe, unmoving on the ground, a large wound on one side of her head, blood all around her. "Oh no..."

Oh noes indeed!

Brilliant use of Xuu Gar in that little captain's cabin! I loved how he waited for Haa Rei's signal before finishing off the vampire.

I did notice a couple of places where the present tense was used instead of the story's past tense:


and


I still continue to enjoy the adventures of Haa Rei and Ciri. Story Good More Please!

Some wonderful sneaksmanship and cleverness by Haa-Rei about the slaver ship. I cheered when Xuu Gar appeared and gave that vampire a proper fire and claw bath!

Don’t you dare let anything too bad happen to Ciri! I shall rest in the hope that her only residuals will be a few more scars to join the host of others that so richly help define her.

haute - More story coming right up!

Acadian - It's out of my hands I'm afraid, we'll just have to hope someone comes along who knows what they're doing



Previously - Haa-Rei and Tsarakiri managed to defeat the slaver, while Tsarakiri's crew fended off the slaver's men. Upon returning, however, Haa-Rei found Cirinwe critically wounded...

Chapter 79



“Move. MOVE.” A sharp command cut through the murmur of voices as the crew’s healer squeezed through the crowd. “Captain, please.” The healer addressed Tsarakiri, who nodded and dismissed the crew, shooing them away from Cirinwe to allow the healer to work.

The only people permitted to stay were the Breton songstress and myself. The Breton had apologised to me a dozen times since I’d arrived, believing herself to be at fault - Cirinwe had intercepted a blow meant for her. I’d assured her that she didn’t need to apologise, but I could tell that until Cirinwe was awake, she’d have no peace. That makes two of us.

“Hold this,” The healer handed me a lantern, then laid out various tools on a leather blanket. “I’m going to have to shave the area around the wound, alright?” She looked at me for permission, and I nodded hesitantly. I knew Cirinwe was proud of her long, golden hair but it wasn’t worth her life.

The healer was talented, first shaving the hair from the wounded half of Cirinwe’s head before conducting careful surgery on the wound to remove splinters of bone and generally clean the area up. Head wounds always bleed so profusely that they look worse than they actually are, but this was very bad.

“Something’s wrong.” The healer had sewn up the wound, but her healing magic didn’t seem to have any effect. “Vivienne, help me check her for other injuries.” She nodded to the Breton songstress and began undressing Cirinwe. I turned away to give them some privacy, but the healer soon found the cause of the problem and asked me to take a look.

Just below Ciri’s ribs the usually golden skin was pale, almost translucent, the veins under the surface thin and black. The wound looked like a large snake bite, though with only one puncture wound. I carefully placed a hand over the wound, and immediately felt the scales on my palm tingle and go a little numb.

“Daedric poison.” I hissed. Could she have been wounded when she closed the oblivion gate, and just didn’t realise?

“That’s out of my league I’m afraid,” The healer sighed, “you need a proper mage.”

“Let’s get her home first, then we’ll send word to the Mages Guild.” Tsarakiri seemed to step out of the shadows, patting my shoulder. “We’ll do everything we can to help, don’t you worry.”

The rest of the evening was a blur. The four of us carried Cirinwe back up to Ailinwe’s house, where Ailinwe herself immediately began fussing and rushing around. The Breton songstress, who I now knew as Vivienne, remained with Cirinwe while Tsarakiri and the healer left to fetch someone from the Mages Guild, before returning to the hideout. I quickly scribbled a letter and passed it onto the local courier’s office for immediate delivery.

The Mage from the Guild was of little help. He stared and prodded at the wound ineffectively before declaring that it was indeed Daedric magic, which earned him some rather fierce glares from the assembled party in Cirinwe’s room. He excused himself as he could be of no further help.

“How about something to eat?” Ailinwe asked Vivienne and I. Neither of us wanted to eat, but I could see that Ailinwe was attempting to keep herself busy.

“Perhaps some tea?” I suggested.

“Yes, tea, perfect.” Ailinwe smiled and dashed off to the kitchen, returning a few minutes later with a pot of lukewarm tea. Lynette followed immediately after, clearly having just woken up from all the noise.

“Allie.” Lynette said firmly, but warmly. “Let Haa-Rei look after Ciri for a few hours and come back to bed.”

“I...alright.” Ailinwe hesitated, but saw sense. There was nothing she could do, and if anything changed I’d let her know immediately. I nodded my thanks to Lynette, glad to have someone with a calm head on the scene.

I was about to offer some tea to Vivienne but she was fast asleep in the chair next to Ciri’s bed, holding her hand. An odd sense of peace seemed to settle on the house, so I took some time to look through every bookshelf I could find for any tome regarding Daedra, poison, and various related topics. Most were useless, but as the first rays of sunlight shone over Anvil I found what I’d been looking for. A small passage, just a brief bit of information, but it was enough to confirm my theory.

The wound had been caused by a Spider Daedra, which meant that venom was slowly coursing through Cirinwe’s body. I couldn’t heal it, but I could possibly figure out how to slow the spread of the venom a little.

The following few days were all primarily spent in the Mages Guild hall, researching and testing various alchemical formulas. I had to take occasional breaks to go out into the wilderness to collect whatever reagents I could find, as I was not a full member of the guild and thus unable to make use of their stock. I was keenly aware that my efforts were going rather poorly, but it was giving me something to do other than worry myself to death.

The houses was busy enough as it is. Ailinwe, Lynette, and even little Marie helped look after Cirinwe, administering potions, keeping wounds clean, and in Marie's case, reading Cirinwe stories from a selection of children's books. Vivienne remained by Ciri's side almost all of the time, singing softly to herself, and she was visited frequently by various members of Tsarakiri's crew, especially Viv's partner, the Dunmer whose arm was still in a sling.

Days crawled by, then weeks. As the situation inside the house seemed to be more or less unchanged, the world outside Anvil was slowly being pushed to the brink by Daedric incursions. Our fortunes, and the fortunes of Tamriel, were soon to change.

“This is impossible.” I sighed to myself as yet another mixture ended in failure. If the situation was reversed, Cirinwe would have been able to figure out the correct mixture in a matter of hours.

“Haa-Rei?” Vivienne’s voice suddenly called for me, and I almost jumped out of my chair. I dashed to the main entrance to find her.

“Vivienne? What’s wrong?” I thought it must be serious for her to leave the house.

“Visitors, they said you’d invited them.”

I’d almost forgotten my hastily written note, and quickly cleared away all of the alchemy rubbish I’d been working on before heading back to the house.

“By the Hist it’s good to see you all.” As requested, Olorin had arrived to lend his aid, and Sjöfn and Jötnar had obviously decided to join him.

“We got here as fast as we could, we were so worried!” Sjöfn pulled me into a big hug, while Jötnar gave me a hearty slap on the shoulder.

“And we were joined on the road by some old friends of Cirinwe’s.” Olorin smiled and motioned to the two women that were already inspecting Cirinwe’s wound. I recognised one of them almost immediately.

An Orc, pale white eyes and skeletal tattoos, wearing earth-toned robes. One of the Wyrd mages that Cirinwe had met in High Rock.

“Kyne told us to come, and it’s as well we got here when we did. Another couple of days…” She didn’t finish the sentence, instead getting to her feet and allowing her companion to lead her over to me. Her hands reached up to feel the structure of my face, running along my cheekbones and up to my horns. “Yep, that’s him.” She spoke to her companion, who nodded to show her understanding.

“What’s him?” I asked, confused.

“I’ve seen you before, in visions of Cirinwe, which means we’re on the right track. I know how to save her.”

So there's the story of Ciri's new haircut! Seriously, knowing what is wrong with her is a good step but turns out to be a helplessly frustrating one for Haa-Rei. So glad that Wyress showed up and thinks she knows how to help.

Oh, no! Now Haa-Rei will need healing too!

Oh my gosh, Xuu Gar’s entrance was marvelous. I love how he and Haa-Rei came to an agreement!

I enjoyed every step into Pirate Captain Tsarakiri’s hideout. Yikes, Ciri’s in trouble. I like the way healing works, with not everything able to be fixed with the same kind of potion or spell. The good news is the allies have assembled around Cirinwe. Great to see old friends returning.

Acadian - Yep! The screenshot are sort of spoilers I suppose, but everything's coming together now.

Grits - So glad to hear that you're enjoying it! Ciri is fortunate to have so many friends that she can count on.



Previously - The source of Cirinwe's mysterious illness was revealed to be Daedric poison, and it looked as if there would be no cure. With the arrival of a mysterious Orc Wyrd practitioner, things may be looking up...

Chapter 80



“So in order to help Cirinwe, you need to give her a tattoo?” Ailinwe asked after the Orc had explained her plan to us all.

“Well that’s the short of it I guess. The long of it is imbuing her body and soul with a physical manifestation of ancient nature magicks in order to restore her drained vitality and counteract the daedric poison.” The Orc shrugged, not caring which version we preferred. It would seem that the opinions of the group were irrelevant to her.

“It sounds...dangerous.” Ailinwe was obviously concerned, as was the rest of the group.

“I won’t lie, it’s a tricky procedure, but Cirinwe is strong. The preparation is the only thing anyone need worry about.”

Ailinwe looked around the group, all these people here to help Cirinwe, before her eyes finally settled on me. “Haa-Rei, your thoughts?” She asked.

In truth, I had no idea what to think. Cirinwe couldn’t remain unconscious forever, but an Orc with scary face paint and mysterious magic didn’t set me at ease. Still, if there’s a chance it’ll work…

“I think...we don’t have any other options.” I looked over to Cirinwe, still asleep on the bed. Her face had grown thin and pale, her breathing shallow.

“Alright,” Ailinwe nodded, and turned to the Orc, “What do we need to do?”

The Orc immediately put everyone to work. Ailinwe, Lynette, and the Orc’s companion began preparing the area in the basement (previously home to a lich) to be used in the ritual. The room was to be cleansed and purified, with plenty of clean water and sheets at the ready.

Vivienne was to find health and magicka potions, restoring and fortifying, so set off to Tsarakiri’s hideout to see what they had in their stores.

Sjöfn and Jötnar had to find a selection of herbs, including half a dozen Nirnroot, so set off into the wilderness to track them down. Olorin remained behind to discuss the ritual with the Orc and lend her his considerable magical abilities.

As for me, I was tasked with getting a Spriggan’s heart and the blood of either a vampire or a werewolf. Obviously the latter would be easy enough, so I set off in search of a Spriggan, though not before getting the Orc’s assurance that Cirinwe would NOT be turned into a werewolf from this process.

The open areas around Anvil were unlikely to attract any guardians of nature, so I headed north towards the dense woodlands surrounding Chorrol. Spriggans are the sort of creature that can avoid being seen if they so choose, hiding within trees or transforming into a cloud of insects. I had hoped that, as this was apparently all part of some grand plan by Kynareth, she might have sent a Spriggan out to greet me. No such luck, and it was many hours later that I finally caught a glimpse of my quarry.

Movement in my peripheral vision caused me to instinctively drop into a crouch, and after a few tense moments the Spriggan appeared, emerging from a nearby tree as one might step out of a doorway. Spriggans always surprised me with their toughness, despite how fragile they looked - getting into a proper fight here would make things more difficult, and I couldn’t risk summoning assistance in case they damaged the creature’s heart.

With the Spriggan came a surge of life - birds began singing and a gentle breeze rustled through the forest. It was a shame that I had to kill it, and I whispered an apology as I loosed my arrow. The creature turned towards me at the last moment, and my arrow slammed straight through its eye (or where an eye would be, if it had them). The green glow within suddenly burst forth, and I dashed forward to retrieve the heart before the Spriggan could regenerate. I made it just in time, and pulled my prize free. The twisted knot of wood pulsed with energy, green light swirling around it like flames.

“I hope this works, Kynareth.” I muttered to the wind as I secured the heart in my pack and quickly began my return journey - it was getting dark, and time was of the essence.

As expected, I was the last to return. The Orc quickly took the heart from me and cracked it open into a bowl. A viscous green liquid poured out, to which crushed Nirnroot, herbs, werewolf blood (which I had...prepared just before I got back to Anvil), and a mix of health and magicka potions was added. The concoction was mixed vigorously and strained several times through a fine mesh sieve. This would be the ink for the tattoos.

Once prepared, the Orc took her assistant and Olorin into the prepared chamber (which Cirinwe had been moved into) and ordered everyone else to wait outside. The waiting party consisted of Ailinwe, Lynette, Sjofn, Jotnar, Vivienne, Tsarakiri, and myself. There were enough chairs around the kitchen table to seat all but one, so I remained standing by the window, though it was now late at night and the only activity to watch outside was the occasional guard on patrol.

The waiting was the worst part. Ailinwe got up to pace around the room several times, and Tsarakiri drummed her claws on the table until Vivienne took her hand and held it tightly. When Olorin finally entered the room, everyone jumped up from their seats.

“It is done, and quite successfully I might add.” The old mer smiled warmly, and everyone breathed a sigh of relief.

“When will she wake up?” Ailinwe asked.

“It may still be a couple of days, but her strength is already returning. Come, see for yourselves.” He gestured for the group to follow him, and we all filed out of the kitchen towards the basement.

The air was heavy with magic, and my snout tingled with all the different scents hanging in the air. Cirinwe did indeed look stronger already, though her skin was still paler than usual. The thing that caused the biggest shock, however, was her scars. They were completely gone.

Where once Cirinwe had burn scars covering half of her body, she now had none. Her skin was completely smooth as if any injuries had never happened. Now, however, her body was covered in tattoos - a twisting vine motif wrapping itself all around her, climbing from toe to head.

“I barely recognise her.” Sjöfn whispered.

Ailinwe stepped forward and lay her hand on Cirinwe’s formerly-scarred cheek, feeling the smooth new skin. It must have been years since she’d seen her sister like this, and she smiled. Then, turning to the Orc, she wrapped her arms around her in a big hug.

Cirinwe had been saved.

Wow, interesting twist on the healing process! I rather liked the description of the spriggan and the challenges Haa Rei faced collecting their heart.

No more scars, huh? I can't bear to "heal" my scarred toons - they wear their scars in remembrance of the price they paid . . .

I agree with Rider in your wonderful depiction of spriggans and their role in the forest.

Woot - Ciri will be okay! Hmm. . . no more Scales & Scars. Maybe Scales & Tats? Nah, perhaps Tail & Tats now. Have to think on that. . . .

Thanks for the update on our odd couple at any rate. Always a joy to read Haa-Rei's wonderful narration.

So does Ciri get amnesia, and have to learn all her skills again?

This was just wonderful. Haa-Rei's determination to save Ciri combined with his regret for the death of the spriggan. And I always love different rituals and methods of magic- there is something profound about the idea of "drawing" the desired result on the body of the person being healed...

Most excellent!

I love the Spriggans in Haa-Rei’s world. Beautiful.

What a neat ritual. That was interesting to read and think about!

Everyone - Apologies for the long, long delay. We are almost at the end of the story, but getting from here to there is never as easy as one hopes.



Previously - Haa-Rei, with the assistance of friends, retrieved the strange ingredients that the Orc required for her healing ritual. Once prepared, they were transformed into a magical ink and tattooed directly onto Cirinwe’s body. The ritual proved a success, completely healing Cirinwe, though she remains in deep slumber...

Chapter 81



Two days after Cirinwe’s treatment, and there had been little change. Her health was no longer deteriorating, so the immediate danger had passed, but she would start to get worse again if she didn’t wake up. Things had grown quiet in Anvil, the Orc and her companion had departed for home, while Sjofn, Jotnar, and Olorin had returned to the Imperial City - the two Nords were planning to head back to Skyrim shortly, though not before I was made to promise that Cirinwe and I would visit them one day. As quickly as they’d all arrived, everyone seemed to have departed again.

I stood watch over Anvil from the large window in Cirinwe’s room, overlooking the main gate and square. The townsfolk were quiet and subdued, news of widespread Daedra attacks seemed to be pouring in as isolated towns and villages were targeted by the ever-growing horde of Daedric creatures. The official Imperial stance was one of isolation - patrols all withdrawn to the capital, gates locked, every traveller for themselves. Not the most heroic stance to take, but I couldn’t judge the Elder Council’s decision without knowing all the facts.

A messenger had arrived with a letter for me that morning, braving the wilds to deliver a summons from the Blades. All agents were being called to Bruma, no explanation was given but from the news of soldiers heading there too I could guess what was going on. Someone had a plan. Quite what that plan was intended to achieve was something I was still trying to figure out.

I looked over at Cirinwe, still sleeping peacefully, and wondered what her advice would be. She looked so different than when we’d first met, but I knew she was still the same bright soul.

“Of course we should help, it’s the right thing to do.” Her words were as clear as day in my head. I scribbled a quick note and left it beside Cirinwe’s bed, then I bid farewell to Ailinwe to let her know I’d be gone for a few days.

I paused only briefly outside of the town gates, the guards swiftly closing them behind me. I had the odd feeling that I would not see Anvil again.

I moved at a good pace, deciding to head more or less in a direct line to Bruma. The forest and wilderness would be safer than the roads, most likely, and I could set a steady pace. I had to pause every now and then as groups of Daedra scampered around - mainly smaller creatures like Scamps and Clannfear, but I spotted more than one Daedroth lumbering through the undergrowth. They seemed to be wandering fairly aimlessly, often dropped in the middle of nowhere by whatever gate had spat them out.

The gates themselves were now an ever-present hum in the distance. I couldn’t imagine how many had appeared throughout Cyrodiil by now, though none since Kvatch had made any sort of impact. The accuracy of Oblivion Gates may well be something to look into once this was all over.

It took several days of near constant travel to reach Bruma, even at the speed I could move. The weather was bitterly cold up here after the warmth of Anvil, fresh snow crunched underfoot and the sky above looked heavy with more to come.

Bruma itself looked more or less like any town in Cyrodiil, stone walls and a large chapel visible from a distance. As I got closer, I could see that the houses in the city were smaller than they were elsewhere - many were actually built partially underground to better protect residents from the snow and biting winds that funnelled down from the mountains. Living in the south of Cyrodiil, it was easy to think of Bruma as some distant and alien land, but in reality it was still close to the capital, and still Imperial for the most part.

Outside the city, a temporary town had popped up. Dozens of tents and makeshift shelters huddled against the wall, the various banners snapped in the wind alongside some Imperial standards. Soldiers had been gathered from all over Cyrodiil - town guards, fighters and mages guild, Imperial legionnaires (no doubt going against their direct orders to remain in the city), and a good number of miscellaneous warriors who I assumed were other Blades agents. There were some Blades soldiers here too, their Akaviri armour standing out from the rest. It was this group I approached, invitation in hand.

“Ah, welcome brother.” One of the Blades clapped me on the shoulder, his nose and cheeks a healthy shade of red as the wind whipped around us. The other Blades that were with him, a Breton and a Redguard, nodded to me before departing on an errand.

“What exactly is going on? If you can share any details, I mean.” I asked, trying to keep my voice down.

The Blade ran me through some recent events, and the immediate plans. We were to have a battle, inviting the Daedra to open a Great Gate on a field of our choosing, so the Hero of Kvatch could acquire some sort of artifact that we needed for...something. The Emperor’s son himself would be leading the troops, a heroic (if wildly dangerous) plan of action.

“Honestly I’m not sure anyone knows the full details. All we need to know is that there’s a chance to stop the Daedra for good, and all it’ll take is one battle.” The Blade smiled and clapped me on the shoulder again before departing. I was not filled with confidence.

I’d never seen a Great Oblivion Gate, but I didn’t like the sound of it. I supposed that if the Hero of Kvatch wanted to jump head first into it then it wasn’t any of my business - all I had to do was fight some Daedra on the sidelines and I’d be back in Anvil before I knew it. With that in mind, I headed over to what looked to be a makeshift practice area and made sure I still knew how to hold a sword.

The battle would be upon us soon enough.

Now this promises to be interesting. I haven't seen any "someone else is CoC" stories do the Battle of Bruma before. I had Clark's story start after it was all over.

And of course, you have a nice clean sheet for what happens outside, as all of us who played the game were the other side of the Gate.

Oh this is so good to see! And I also love the idea of looking at the Great Gate battle from a different perspective.

[quote]

Why do I get the feeling he needs to have his prognosticator looked at as well as practice with his sword?

Welcome back to Haa-Rei and the resting Cirinwe!

It is neat knowing what we know of the Oblivion Crisis in hindsight and comparing it to the limited snips that Haa-Rei is getting as he is living through it in his version of Tamriel.

Open a great gate, send in the Hero of Kvatch to grab some artifact, save the Empire and be home to Ciri before dinner – what could go wrong?

Always a joy to read your excellent prose, my friend.

Ooo, Bruma! I had to chuckle at the thought of the Hero of Kvatch jumping through and all Haa-Rei has to do is…

Everyone - Time for Haa-Rei's annual update. As I have more time on my hands at the moment I'd like to crack on and finish this story. I estimate another 2 chapters, maybe 3. Hopefully without a 13 month gap in between. I'm never pleased with the way I write action scenes, but I'm even less pleased with the amount of time it's taken for me to sit down and write stuff. Now I have moody Dunmer Ciri grumbling about wanting her own story...


Previously - Haa-Rei left the warmth of Anvil on a journey to the chilly north, to assist in the efforts of the Blades in a proposed battle to end the threat of Daedra to Cyrodiil...

Chapter 82



I had never been in a battle on this scale before, so it had never occurred to me that the most terrifying part of it would be the brief period of waiting beforehand. Here we all were, soldiers and adventurers from across Cyrodiil, freezing our toes off in the snow, waiting for the enemy to show up. We’d chosen a rather conveniently flat and open space, with rocks to one side and a deep gully to the other. The enemy would hopefully be forced into a head-on engagement, so the plan was to simply push through them and close all of the gates.

The battle lines were fairly ramshackle, with a mixture of legion soldiers and town guardsmen in the front ranks, fighters guild and assorted adventurers in the middle ranks, and mages guild accompanied by ranged fighters at the rear. There was also a core of Blades in the centre, amongst which stood the Hero of Kvatch (though I couldn’t tell which one they were, they all looked decidely heroic) and the soon-to-be-Emperor Martin Septim. Martin was standing on a rock (or other such conveniently placed podium substitute), addressing the assembled troops, though unfortunately for everyone on the left flank (myself included) a southerly wind had picked up and was whipping the poor chap’s words away before they reached us. He did look rather dashing in his golden armour though.

“What do you think he’s saying?” asked the Bosmer mage beside me. She was shaking all over, likely from a combination of cold and fearful anticipation.

“Oh I’m sure it’s very inspirational. Thought-provoking, heartfelt.” I had to lean down slightly to speak to her, as she was small even by Bosmer standards.

“You think so?” The mage smiled a little.

“Absolutely. ‘Thanks for coming here, we’re going to win, we’re the best’, that sort of thing. Probably something about how amazing Akatosh is to round it out.”

The mage almost laughed, and was about to reply when the waiting suddenly stopped.

The wind immediately died down, and a hush fell over the assembled forces as the air in front of us began to ripple, before tearing open with a great howl. Two gates appeared, one on each flank, though neither looked particularly great to me.

Rather than the usual rabble of scamps, these gates began spitting out ranks of dremora, their black armour and weapons shining in the orange glow of the gates. With a shout from somewhere further down the lines, the two armies clashed with a roar, shield against shield, man against monster.

I began to loose arrows into the daedric lines, though against their armour I wasn’t sure what good I was doing. The Bosmer focused her attention on incoming projectiles from dremora mages, turning away fireballs and forks of lightning before they fell amongst our soldiers.

After what could have been a few minutes or a few seconds, the main enemy force arrived. The air seemed to twist and scream in the space between the two Oblivion gates, and in a wave of hot air the space was filled with a massive wall of fire. The Great Gate certainly lived up to its name, and waves of scamps began pouring out, clambering over the dremora to leap amongst our lines.

My eyes began to sting from the glare of the gates, and I blinked furiously to clear my vision, picking a few scamps off as they dashed across the shoulders of the dremora. The sky above began to rumble as black clouds gathered, and the air in the immediate vicinity grew thick and heavy.

A swelling cry from the right flank accompanied our troop’s push forward, a mixed unit of soldiers and adventurers pushing their way towards the gate. Our flank on the left began to move similarly, but a trio of Daedroths, accompanied by some atronachs, barged through the enemy lines and began laying waste to our own band of intrepid gatecrashers.

My Bosmer friend tapped me on the shoulder and drew my attention to a group of scamps attempting to scale the rocks to our left, which would allow them to flank around our force and into the back lines. I nodded and the two of us went wide around the rocks, away from the battle, and took down three of the camps before the others retreated.

“I need a breather.” The Bosmer was leaning heavily on her staff, taking steady breaths of the bracing northern air. The sky was much colder and clearer even a short way from our previous position.

The din of the battle at this distance was extraordinary, with magic arcing over both sides, and the melee fight where the lines met ebbing and flowing like a river of steel. Only our forward centre was unmoving, a solid square of gold standing out like a beacon in the light of the great gate - presumably the Hero of Kvatch had already leaped bravely into the unknown, slaying deadra by the dozen and wrenching our world back from the brink of untimely annihilation. Unfortunately there were no such heroics on the left flank, as the poor folks in the front just barely managed to withstand the daedroth assault.

“You should get back to our lines.” I gestured to the mage, “I need to get a closer look at something.”

“Alright, I’ll see you back there.” She hesitated for a moment, “My name’s Finriel, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you Finriel, my name is Haa-Rei.”

With that, we went our separate ways. I ducked into a crouch and went even wider around the battlefield, well out of any wandering daedra’s line of sight, until I was behind their lines, and their gates.

This is a terrible idea. I had gotten this far, but the relative peace of my position allowed me a moment to think.

Someone has to do it.

There are plenty of someones on the field, let them do it.

They’re on the wrong side of the daedra, it has to be me.

This is a terrible idea.

The sooner it’s done, the sooner I can go home.

Even as the last thought entered my mind, I began moving forward. Cautiously at first, but as the adrenaline began flooding my system I broke into a jog, then a run, then a sprint.

A lone scamp happened to turn and see me, but its hasty fireball went far wide, and I slid across the snow and into the gate before the creature had another chance.

This is a terrible idea.

Ciri's a Dunmer? I thought she was Altmer? *peers closer at avatar* oh, hey, did she have a race change token?

I loved her Altmeri backstory, makes me wonder about her Dunmeri version?

One nit: It's decidedly though perhaps decisively would be a better choice? Though this is Has Rei's own voice, with a healthy salting of British humor, so maybe leave it as originally written . . .

I noticed a couple of differences from the game: first, you have two smaller Gates open simultaneously, while in the game it was three smaller Gates that opened consecutively, and secondly, the smaller gates remained open once the Great Gate opened, whilst in the game the three smaller ones whooshed out of existence once the Great Gate opened.

Not really a nit, just noticed that it was different from the game version. It in no way detracts from your story telling, and if you intended it this way, it works. Even if you didn't intend to change it up from the game, it still works!

And I thought the Hero of Kvatch went inside the Great Gate, as in Teresa's story, and from what it seems to be heading in Buffy's story? If so, why did Haa Rei feel compelled to go in as well?

Still, having been watching (re-watching, really) Midsomer Murders for the past month or so, I'm enjoying the distinctively humorous British tone in this story. Do I have to wait another 13 months for the next update?

Welcome back as Haa-Rei continues his adventure!

This was wonderful to read, partly because Buffy will join Martin’s army for the Battle of Bruma within a couple more episodes of her current book. I love how each of us who feature this famous battle in our stories keep it very recognizable but apply our own take, twists and turns to it.

You did a great job giving us a feel for the violence, magnitude, noise and confusion so appropriate for such an epic battle.

Oh, I hope Buffy’s fellow tiny sister Bosmer mage, Finriel, survives.

So Haa-Rei plans to enter that massive gate. Yikes!