24th Last Seed

The patrons in the taverns were thinning out; the candle on the table burned low, melted wax forming a rough circle at its base. The barkeep brought one final round of mead for the trio, told them that he would be closing in an hour, and left them to it.

'He'd charge you for entertaining in his establishment if he knew how good this story was, Drelis.' Phane took his tankard in both hands and stared into the golden mead. 'What happened after Nilheim? When do the dragons pop up again?'

'You have an obsession with dragons don't you? Very well, let's see if this will slake your thirst. There was no obvious way to ford the lake from Nilheim,' Drelis continued. 'Khargol and Lydia broke camp before dawn and went back to the road and found themselves traveling through a sparse forest of silver birch. When the sun rose that morning, they would learn why the region was known as the Golden High Forest.

'Before that, however, they were set upon by a pack of half-starved wolves. Khargol struck one with his axe, Lydia felled another with her bow, but the third member of the pack met an entirely unexpected end.

'The clearing shuddered without warning, a dragon landed not thirty feet from the travelers, crushing the wolf and glaring with its malevolent eyes!

'Lydia writes that she saw nothing but fire from that moment until the sun finally dawned. "The beast was unlike anything I had ever seen. It was all black scales, horns, and leathery wings. It crouched in the clearing where it had landed, locked eyes with my thane, and belched a gout of flame that burned the trees and seared the grass. Even Khargol, dragonborn or no, was overwhelmed by the dragon's unexpected appearance.

'"When we charged the beast, it took to the skies and circled around and around, bellowing its terrifying roar. There was something unearthly about its voice, something that shook me to the core. I loosed arrows at it, but the dragon took no heed. Instead it flew south of us and began breathing fire down on what turned out to be a small farm! We rushed to the farmstead's aid, sprinting up the hill to save those trapped in the burning hovels. The dragon hissed and spat more fire at us, landing in its greed and spite, to feast on the goats and char the crops.

'"Khargol gro-Mashnar took his axe to the monster's wings and neck. It snapped at him and roared, but its movements were curiously slow and uncoordinated. It tried to bite him in half, but with a side-step and turn, my thane's ancient nordic axe found a place in its throat. Blood spilled from the wound, the dragon gave one final trumpeting roar, and fell dead.

'"I found myself astonished as the dragon's corpse immediately began to burn to cinders. The flesh melted away like parchment in a fire, until only half-scorched bones remained. My thane was surrounded by a bright light that streamed from the dragon's skeleton, filling him with the dragon's energy."'

'Yes!' Phane exalted and raised his arms above his head. 'A dragon!' The few remaining patrons gave him queer looks before returning to the drinks.

'Go on, Drelis,' invited Lalaine. 'What happened next?'

'The damage to the farmstead was, thankfully, superficial,' said Drelis. 'Khargol and Lydia helped to put the fires out and made sure everyone was alright before they left. Most of the livestock had died, and some of the crops were burned to a crisp, but none of the farmers had lost their lives and counted themselves lucky to be alive, if poor.

'That afternoon, Ivarstead was finally within reach. The travelers must have looked a sight as they entered the Vilemyr Inn, their clothes, armour, and hair scorched and blackened by dragonfire. They asked about the village, and about High Hrothgar. One of the villagers made supply runs up to the temple, leaving food and provisions in a chest near the summit, but other than that there were few who made the seven-hundred steps to the top.

'Also of interest was a story the innkeep told them about the haunted barrow on the settlement's outskirts. Shroud Heart Barrow they called it. Khargol left Lydia in the inn, investigating the burial grounds himself.'

'Why would he do that?' asked Lalaine.

'Haven't you been listening?' Phane chided. 'The ancient nordic burial grounds obviously have a connection with the dragons. Khargol was probably hoping to find more secrets... right Drelis?'

'His motivation is not recording,' Drelis said with a grin. 'The revelation within, however, is.

'When Khargol entered the barrow he beheld a ghostly apparition. It warned him to stay away, but how many times have you seen an orc back down from a challenge or threat? After working his way through trapped corridors and puzzling chambers, he found the ghost and proceeded to do battle with it. When he fell, the ghost turned out to be a mortal thief who had concocted a potion that would make him appear to be ethereal.

'The thief had been seeking a jeweled claw, but his frustration and solitude had driven him mad until he truly believed that he was a phantasm of the barrow. Khargol took the thief's journal as proof to the innkeep. Interestingly enough it turned out that the innkeep had the claw the whole time; he gave it to Khargol as a reward for exorcising the barrow. I'm sure you know what comes next.'

'Another one of those doors!'

'Quite right, Lalaine. You seen, Phane? She was listening after all.' Drelis smiled at his own joke, then continued. 'When he broke the seal to the inner chambers, Khargol was ambushed by a horde of draugr. He used his thu'um to force them back, stunning them so that he might deliver the final blow to put their aged bones to rest. The final tomb was large and imposing; its undead inhabitants powerful and intimidating. But the power of the dragonborn could not be denied, and our intrepid orc warrior carved a path to the dragon word-wall mural where he learned a shout that would calm any animals that crossed his path.'

 
The barkeep cleared his throat pointedly. 'Is that a good place to leave it for now?' asked Lalaine. 'I don't want to be falling asleep at work again.'

'It's as good a place as any,' answered Drelis, draining the last of his mead and gathering his books. 'Khargol returned to the inn and spent the night there, intent on climbing the mountain at sunrise. He detailed all of the events in the barrow for Lydia to record. It seems she was intent on immortalising Khargol's deeds somehow, even if it was just in her personal diary.'

'Come on you two, we'd better not outstay our welcome any more than we already have,' Phane waved to the barkeep as they left the tavern for the night-time streets. 'Same time tomorrow?' he suggested. 'I want to hear what happened when our orc hero finally met the greybeards of High Hrothgar.'

23rd Last Seed

'What took you so long?' Lalaine scowled as Phane sat down at the table. He was carrying a tall pewter pitcher of mead in one hand, and three tankards in the other. He was smiling mischievously. 'We've been waiting for you to get back so we can continue the story. Don't you want to hear how Khargol reached High Hrothgar?'

'Oh Lalaine, you are so single-minded.' Phane placed the paraphernalia on the table, gave one last look over his shoulder to the bar area, and sat down with his friends.

'Were you distracted by the young Ms. Hawkhart by any chance?' asked Drelis, grinning.

'Let's just continue with the story shall we?' Phane poured the mead into the tankards and handed them out, trying not to make eye contact with anyone while he did it. Lalaine shook her head, and Drelis chuckled, but they quickly resumed the tale where they had left off.

'I must say that Lydia was a very tolerant and devoted housecarl. She had been assigned to a thane who was an immigrant rather than a local. Khargol was not even a nord. Not even human. But she protected and obeyed him nonetheless. She even details, with a certain degree of fascination, how she awoke to find him cleaning the skull of one of the trolls they had killed. He had put out its eyes, rubbed it in salt, and was butchering it with a small steel knife. It must have put Lydia off her breakfast, but she still paid enough attention to catalog the procedure and even make a quick sketch of the skull after her thane was finished with it. The skull later became a trophy that Khargol would proudly display on his mantle, but we'll come to that later.

'The duo left the cave and got back to the road, following the river. The nearest settlement to High Hrothgar was the village of Ivarstead, so they followed the road signs, enjoying the fine weather.

'The roads were fairly quiet. They saw small wolf packs bounding through the foliage, met a traveler or two, and saw native fauna on the slopes through the trees, but little of import is noted in the diary.

'The first event that Lydia notes is the occupation of Fort Amul beside the road. Normally a stormcloak refuge, the battlements were now manned by scowling men and suspicious mer in dark robes. The mages warned them to stay away, but they must have been especially nervous of the heavily-armed travelers because one of them lost his arrogant and confident veneer to lash out at the adventurers with his crackling magicka!

Khargol and Lydia might otherwise have walked by the fort without a second glance, but instead they were drawn into a brief and bloody conflict with the spellcasters who now inhabited the stronghold. Orcs are not known for their aptitude when it comes to the schools of magic, but they are known for their resistance to spellcraft. While Lydia crouched behind her shield, Khargol waded through fire, ice, and lightning to slaughter the magi left, right, and centre. The mages' efforts were unprepared and poorly co-ordinated. When the fight was over, Khargol was debating whether or not to clear out the interior of the fort. Lydia explained that they had already crossed the boundaries of Whiterun Hold and were now in Eastmarch territory; Khargol's duties as Thane did not extend this far, but if he wanted to hunt down the mages in the ruins... well, nobody but the mages would be protesting.

'In the end though, they left the job to the next stormcloak patrol that came by. High Hrothgar was not getting any closer while they debated, and dragons were a more urgent threat than rebel magi holed up in a half-ruined fort.'

'You can't fix all the world's problems,' said Phane solemnly. 'Even if you are an indomitable orc warrior with the ability to shout people to death.'

'Is the fort mentioned again in any of the records?' asked Lalaine.

'It is, but only in passing,' Drelis revealed, spreading his hands. 'It seems that, with their reduced man-power, the mages could not hold onto the fort effectively and they eventually left for a smaller, more easily-defensible site.

'Now, Skyrim is land of mountains and snowfall, of tundra and icy peaks. Lydia mentions a great bridge that crossed near a broad waterfall. The sight briefly enraptured the pair, distracting them from the long, steep climb that awaited them.'

'I'd love to see Skyrim's mountains,' Lalaine mumbled, staring dreamily into the middle-distance.

'Too cold for me,' complained Phane. 'I'd rather hear about them instead. And dragons,' he added pointedly.

'I'm not going to add dragons into the story where there aren't any to be added, Phane.' Drelis rubbed his nose and continued. 'As they climbed higher, a heavy rain began to descend. The travelers were getting thoroughly soaked when Khargol spotted a cave where they might take shelter. Unfortunately, they were not the first people to take shelter in Snapleg Cave.

'Within the cave, a pair of old women worked over a small cauldron. The smell of a hearty stew drew the travelers closer. One of the old women invited them to sit and eat with them, but the enticement stopped when the other cook turned and revealed herself to be a fiendish hagraven!'

'Urgh!' Lalaine exclaimed. 'That sounds horrible. What is a hagraven?'

'They resemble stopped, old women,' explained Drelis. 'They often have long, matted white hair that hangs down from under a dark cowl. Their arms and legs are long and skinny, bearing feathers and ending in hooked black talons. They are frightful to behold, and naturally gifted with horrible magics that can turn a man mad or bind monsters to their will.'

'I will have nightmares for weeks,' said Phane, staring into his mead.

'Lydia had readied her bow and managed to loose an arrow through the witch's throat. The hagraven, however, was a trickier opponent. Without warning, a swarm of spiders descended from the stalactites. They crawled and pulled and weaved and bit. Lydia was overwhelmed, struggling to keep the spiders from biting her at the same time as keeping her footing. Khargol charged the hagraven, but had to pull back to avoid her wicked claws. He swung this way and that, but the hagraven was surprisingly nimble for something that looked so venerable. Only Khargol's shout managed to stun the wretched creature for long enough for him to plant his axe squarely between her eyes and stop her frenzied screeching.

'He helped Lydia chase off the last of the spiders, but the cave had left them both feeling more than a little uneasy. They decided that they would rather hike through the rain than rest in a cave that had once been home to a hagraven.'

'I don't blame them,' admitted Lalaine.

'Near the top of the climb, the pair found the ruined tower of Nilheim. A man lured them towards the half-fallen keep, claiming that bandits had attacked his camp and stolen his trade goods. It turned out to be a bandit trap, but the rain and the climb had vexed Khargol and Lydia to such a degree that they simply waded into the bandit camp, slaying everyone present without a word or moment's hesitation. The man who had set the trap pleaded for his life. Lydia describes Khargol lifting the man by his throat and pitching him off the cliff.'