Demise of the Cold Steel Smith

I stopped updating Cold Steel Smith some time ago, but irresponsibly forgot to mention why. I'm sure my untold billions of few readers have been chomping at the bit and checking the blog every day for an update, hoping beyond hope that their RSS feeds simply haven't kept up with the latest posts.

Khargol's save data became corrupted a few in-game days after the events detailed in the previous post. Essentially, this meant I would either have to retrace my steps or abandon the project.

On reflection, perhaps I shouldn't have dedicated myself to recording a Skyrim blog starting on the day of the game's release. With the hindsight of some four hundred hours of play, I could now come up with a much more interesting character or theme.

Well, that's all folks. Hopefully you enjoyed it while it lasted.

8th Hearthfire

'"My name has not always been Erandur, but that is what it is now. I have been given a blank slate; the chance to start anew. It is thanks in no small part to Khargol gro-Mashnar, an orc who arrived in Dawnstar on the afternoon of 8th Hearthfire 4E 201.

"I was in the Windpeak Inn, trying to calm the locals and assure them that everything would be alright. I was lying through my teeth, but I saw no need to alarm the townsfolk. The people of Dawnstar had been suffering nightmares night after night for some time by then; I took it upon myself to help them with the nightmares, giving them Mara's blessings daily and comforting them when necessary.

"The nightmares did not scare me nearly as much as the knowledge that the people of Dawnstar were doomed if the evil dreams were not stopped soon. I knew exactly what had to be done, but I could not do it alone.

"Then, as if sent by Mara herself, in stomped an orc to the inn's taproom. His bulky armour, a mix of sturdy dwemer and orichalcum plates, glistened with melting snow. The weather is harsh and cold in Skyrim, but only Winterhold boasts more blizzards than Dawnstar and The Pale. The orc, Khargol gro-Mashnar, took an interest in the talk of nightmares in the town. Something about him convinced me to ask for his help; perhaps the Divines were watching that day.

"I took Khargol aside and explained that the citizens of Dawnstar were in dire peril. Vaermina, Weaver of the Panoply, daedric prince of dreams, nightmares, and omens, was at work in the nightmares visited upon the town. He agreed to help me immediately. The townsfolk were joyous to hear that we were on our way to the ruined tower, Nightcaller Temple, that overshadowed their homes.

"Fortunately, their hope was not in vain. Khargol and I left Dawnstar and clambered up the snow-piled slopes to the tower. Although we were out of the snow once we found our way inside, a chill remained and made us both shiver. Me especially. I dispelled the enchantment that disguised the way ahead and warned Khargol what we were likely to face.

"Nightcaller Temple was once home to a sect of daedra worshipers; at some point they were assaulted by a band of orcs who had been suffering from similar nightmares to the ones the townsfolk were now experiencing. To defend themselves, the cultists released a magical gas called the Miasma. The Miasma caused everyone in the temple to fall into a deep, dreamless sleep - it also preserved them and kept them in a sort of stasis. Both the cultists and the orcs were caught by the Miasma, and both sides were still inside the temple, sleeping in an empty oblivion. Entering the temple, however, would interrupt the Miasma's enchantment and begin waking everyone up. Khargol nodded slowly as I explained that we would likely have to fight our way through both parties to reach the source of the nightmares.

"As we stalked through the temple's inner chambers, I saw the source of the curse with my own eyes; although it was beyond our immediate reach. The Skull of Corruption stood, leaking its foul arcane energies like a corpse vomiting maggots. I knew that we had to destroy it.

"It was then that Khargol confronted me and asked how a priest of Mara knew so much about a daedric artifact. He had read books on such things, but my extensive knowledge would have been obvious even to a fool. I told him the truth.

"I told him that I was once a priest of Vaermina, a cultist within these very same walls. But that life was behind me - now my direction came from the Divine Mara, and I was more than eager to repent for the life I had lived before. For half a moment I thought that Khargol would turn that keen axe of his on me, but he simply grimaced and asked what we needed to do to destroy the Skull.

"We made our way into the temple's library. A number of the cultists and orc raiders began to stir; when they did not slay one-another, we put them down with magic and steel. Khargol found the tome that we needed to make the potion we required. Passing through the magical barrier that protected the skull was not possible on this plane of existence. We needed to travel through another plane, the plane of dreams. The potion of Dreamstride was what we needed, and the book made our quest possible.

"After come round from the potion's effects, Khargol was on the opposite side of the magical barrier and able to lower it so that we could both progress to the inner chamber where the Skull stood. We flew through the remaining sleepers as their trances ended until we stood face-to-face with my closest companions from my time as a cultist of Vaermina. I told them what I was there to do, gave them a choice to repent and redeem themselves. They wouldn't turn.

"We began to battle, magic and steel, fire and blood. I fell back as arcane lightning seared my skin and shattered my magical wards. I thought I would be immolated there and then when a blast of force blew past me and cast my once-comrade against the chamber's wall. When I turned I realised that the force had come from Khargol - but he was no mage, so what had he done? It would be later in our travels that I would see the power of his voice; his thu'um.

"I will not go into detail on the ritual required to banish the Skull of Corruption back to Oblivion. Afterwards, Khargol confessed that he heard Vaermina's voice inside his head urging him to strike my in the back and take the Skull for himself. I thank Mara every day that he did not heed the daedra's words.



"In conclusion, the people of Dawnstar had their first peaceful sleep for a long time and I gained a trustworthy companion with whom I would have many adventures."'

5th Hearthfire

The trio met in Drelis' house. Phane brought the drinks to last them through the night while Lalaine brought some food from the castle larders.

'Are you sure they won't mind you taking that bread and cheese?' Phane asked.

'They won't miss it, put it that way,' replied Lalaine. 'There is enough mature cheese in the cellars for a dozen banquets, and we get fresh bread delivered every day. The count would not deign to eat day-old bread.'

'I'm afraid I have little for the two of you today,' Drelis apologised.

'I've been thinking,' started Phane; his friends rolled their eyes. 'This story could actually get a little repetitive. I mean, I am sure it was exciting at the time; but when it is retold to us it seems like "Khargol traveled here, smithed, traveled there, delved into a barrow, traveled here, spoke to Lydia..." it might be more interesting if he took more companions on his travels.'

'He has a point,' remarked Lalaine, unbelieving. 'Perhaps we should skip to the important parts.'

Drelis sat thinking for a moment. 'I suppose we could,' he faltered. 'But without all of the details...'

'The details are going to disappear in the mundane parts of the story, I fear.' Phane began pouring the drinks.

'Very well. Allow me to go over the events of this next day in brief then.

'Khargol returned to Whiterun and left Uthgerd at the tavern. She was not pleased, as you can imagine, and Khargol had made certain she knew that he would not be asking her assistance again. Her performance in the draugr barrow did not fill him with confidence. She might have started another brawl with him for satisfaction, but it seems she still remembered the last fist-fight she had gotten into.

'On the Warmaiden's forge, Khargol demonstrated the knowledge that he had gained so far on his travels. He forged the heavy armour of the orcs, and the keen weapons of the elves with equal skill. The jarl was more than happy to outfit his men with such fine arms, eagerly paying the marked-down price Khargol offered for his services.

'This, however, caused a sudden rivalry between Khargol and Eorlund Gray-Mane, the master-smith of the Skyforge. Khargol had intended on seeking out Eorlund's tutelage but the old man refused to teach him anything. Skyforged steel was the only steel good enough for the Companions, and everyone coveted such weaponry; but with Khargol giving the jarl's men elven weapons, the attention had been drawn from the skyforge and turned on this foreign orc smith.

'Lydia agreed to stay in Whiterun to negotiate with the jarl and the Companions to make sure that there would be no ill will on Khargol's return. Khargol himself left for Dawnstar, his first stop on his way to the horn of Jurgen Windcaller.

'On the road, Khargol came across a frightened woman who pleaded him for help. Most people would have to be desperate to ask a wandering orc for help, so Khargol knew that she must be at her wits' end. She explained that she had escaped from a place called Mistwatch, an old fort that had been taken over by bandits and was being used to house captives taken in the bandits' raids. The bandits were keeping the people like cattle and trying to ransom them back to their families. The woman had escaped and was trying to find a town in which she could seek refuge.

'Khargol pointed her in the direction of Whiterun, offering to escort her the rest of the way. She turned down his offer and ran off, marking on his map the location of the bandit stronghold.'

'That was unexpected,' Phane mused.

'Let me just get to this part,' Drelis said, licking his lips. 'As the tundra turned to snow-covered plain and forest, Khargol experienced true cold that evening. A creature known as an ice wraith, serpentine and frozen to the core, attacked him as he traveled. Khargol had read about such creatures, but had not been unfortunate enough to come across one. When he passed from Whiterun Hold into The Pale, he found that they were just lying in wait under the snow for unawares travelers.

'Such creatures are difficult to make out in the snowy landscape. They seem to be made of ice, and they attack their prey by driving their cruel icy bodies again and again into the warm bodies that intrude in their territory. It was only by slashing blindly at the evil creature that Khargol was finally able to smash it to pieces and save himself from a frigid fate.'

'Ice wraiths?' Phane frowned. 'Never heard of them.'

'They must be indigenous to Skyrim,' suggested Lalaine. 'Are they some form of ghost or daedra?'

'To be perfectly honest, I am not sure,' Drelis admitted. 'What is certain from Khargol's account of them is that they are extremely dangerous creatures and most unlike anything else you are likely to come across, even in a potentially cold place like Skyrim.'

4th Hearthfire

'We are in danger of outstaying out welcome,' said Drelis, eyeing the grumpy barkeep. 'Phane, perhaps you should order us some more wine to keep our host satisfied.

'What? Now?' Phane cupped his hands in a begging gesture. 'But you said we were just getting to the part with more dragons in it!' He looked to Lalaine for support, but she was clearly on Drelis' side. 'Fine. Damn you both. It'll be cheap wine though, so be satisfied with whatever turns up.'

'Get us some food as well,' suggested Lalaine. 'Bread, cheese, cold meat. Maybe some grapes!' But Phane was already half way to the bar, muttering. 'Are there really dragons in this next part?' she asked Drelis.

'Of course, I am no liar,' Drelis picked up his wine cup. It was empty. He sighed and put it back down. 'The nights were growing steadily colder with autumn settling in. I imagine it takes a while to get used to Skyrim's climate, even if you are already used to brisk mountain air. Even after the sun had risen, the wind still had a bite in it and snow was falling, even on the plain of the tundra.

'Khargol and Uthgerd passed a trio of giants herding their mammoths from their camp to a watering hole. Wild elk bounded across the fields, and rabbits bolted for cover as the warriors hiked towards the half-ruin of Fort Greymoor.

'The fort appeared to be manned, but the sentries on the wall turned out to be straw mannequins. "A legion trick," Khargol claimed.'

'Does that mean he was in the legion?' asked Lalaine.

'Not quite. I was going to talk about this later but... well, Phane wouldn't be interested. Khargol used to be a mercenary before he came to Skyrim, and he had some bad run-ins with the legion.' Lalaine's eyes lit up, her mouth agape. 'That's all I'll say for now though, there's too much to get through at the moment.

'The fort was occupied by a band of well-armed bandits. Thugs and outlaws, all of them, they were prepared to defend their ruined den, but they were not prepared for two experienced adventurers who stormed the place with such tenacity. Khargol commented that Uthgerd fought without remorse against the bandits, she explained that their crimes meant that they deserved no quarter. Uthgerd writes about her own feats of valour with a ridiculous amount of detail - if her accounts were to be believed in full, we would think she had slain a hundred men single-handedly while Khargol managed to best only four or five. One entry mentions the "bandits' pet wizard" and says only that Khargol took a lightning bolt to the chest, but managed to stay upright and hack the sorcerer to pieces. I suspect that Uthgerd's nordic distrust of magic had only been reinforced by their experiences in Volunruud.

'Looting the bandit dead, Khargol came across a book on legion tactics...'

'Mixed Unit Tactics,' claimed Phane, returning with a platter of food and drinks. 'Even I've read that one. Did I miss the dragons?'

'No, you didn't miss the dragons, and no it wasn't Mixed Unit Tactics.' Drelis made a grab for some bread while Lalaine cut the cheese. 'It was a book that is normally issued only to legion soldiers. Khargol suspected that the bandits had been deserters from the legion. It hardly mattered any more though, since they were all dead.

'Upon leaving the fort, both Khargol and Uthgerd were put on guard by the echoing bellow of a dragon circling above.'

'Yes!'

'The dragon circled and circled, roaring and trumpeting, never coming even close to the ground. Khargol picked up one of the dead bandit's bows and started loosing arrows at it. Uthgerd did the same, but none of their arrows found their marks. The dragon barely paid any attention to them, it just kept circling and roaring. Eventually it flew off into the northern mountains.'

Phane was visibly crushed.

'Don't worry Phane,' said Drelis, patting him on the arm. 'They pursued it to the slopes of Eldersblood Peak. They found an abandoned shack on the way up, and Khargol said he could see a number of barrows nearby. They were both already encumbered by their loads, however, so they left their packs in the cottage and scaled the slopes to meet the dragon.

'The dragon, however, swooped down to meet them. It belched flame as they scrambled for cover amongst the sparse trees. Khargol used his thu'um to distract it while Uthgerd shot arrows from her bow. The dragon became wroth and dived to land between them! Now, the slate on the slopes of this particular mountain was particularly slick. As the dragon landed, it dislodged a great tide of rocks and pebbles. The ground gave way and the dragon lost its footing. It was virtually defenceless ans Khargol's axe came crashing down onto its scaly maw!

'Utherd writes of the light and wind that swirled from the dragon's burning flesh until the beast was no more than scorched bones, and Khargol's eyes shone with the power of the monster's soul.'

'Huzzah!' cried Phane, nearly knocking his wine cup flying.

'Did they climb to the peak anyway?' asked Lalaine, catching the cheese wheel before it rolled off the table.

'Khargol did. He left Uthgerd in the shack and returned an hour later. He claimed that there was a word wall mural on the mountaintop, and he had a battleaxe strapped to his back that looked to be of elven make.'

'Elven weapons and armour are prestigious,' Phane remarked. 'Even an orc would see that.'

3rd Hearthfire

Phane returned to the table with three cups and a bottle of red wine. 'Let's hear something more cheery before the night is done.' He put the drinks on the table and sat down.

'I have some records that pertain to something bittersweet,' offered Drelis, sipping his sour wine.

'Are these Lydia's accounts?' Lalaine asked.

'Only to begin with, listen here. Khargol traveled through the night, under the pale gazes of the moons that watched from overhead. He found a desolate ruin on the hillside and, hoping to find shelter until morning, explored it. It was an empty shell, but at its highest point was a room open to the night sky where a forge burned brightly. A journal upon one of the workbenches described it as the Lunar Forge where weapons would take on queer attributes if forged in the moonlight.'

'Wow. Did he forge anything?'

'Unfortunately not, but I imagine that the Lunar Forge would not be something that an errant smith would forget. No, Khargol did not have the necessary ores and ingots to forge anything at the time, but he eagerly marked it upon his map for later investigation.

'He arrived in Whiterun just before dawn. He went straight to sleep, as anyone would after such a long journey, and woke a little before noon to tell Lydia of his adventures in Markarth and the Reach.

'On the forge at the Warmaiden smithy, Khargol forged dwemer metal into an exquisite set of heavy armour for himself. He also met with a mercenary by the name of Uthgerd the Unbroken.

'Uthgerd was a warrior woman, there was no mistake. During a fist-fight on the night that Khargol went missing from Whiterun, she had been on the receiving end of his orcish knuckles. So impressed was she, by his strength and vigor, that she had looked for him the following morning to offer her services as a fighter to watch his back. Khargol had disappeared, however, only to find himself in Markarth as we have already heard.'

'And we still don't know why,' complained Lalaine.

'Did Uthgerd end up following Khargol anyway?' Phane asked.

'She did indeed,' answered Drelis. 'She wanted to act as his companion, so he gave her the opportunity to prove herself. She was obviously a seasoned fighter, but every warrior has an individual way of fighting, so Khargol needed to weight her personality as much as her combat prowess.

'They journeyed into the foothills north of Whiterun, hunting bandits wanted by the jarl for theft and murder. The bandits were holed up in an iron ore mine; Khargol and Uthgerd stole inside, stepping slowly and carefully to avoid letting the bandits know they were there. Just as they crossed the threshold into the cavern where the bandits were sitting, planning their next move, Khargol disturbed some gravel that rolled down the slope and alerted the bandits.

'The outlaw hedge-wizard in the bandits' employ panicked and let loose a magical stream of flames. Spilled lamp oil caught fire and suddenly the cave turned into an oven! With the majority of the bandits writhing and burning amongst the flames, it fell to Khargol and Uthgerd to attack the bandit chief to finish the job. Raining blows from both sides, our valiant warriors won the day and claimed the bandits' treasure trove for themselves.'

'Was that enough to prove Uthgerd's worth?'

'Not even close,' said Drelis. 'Khargol had heard rumours of a barrow to the north, so he took Uthgerd there to see how she would fare against the walking dead. The burial ground was named Volunruud, and it stood half-buried in the snow of the highlands. Khargol warned Uthgerd what they were likely to face, but assured her that he was experienced in delving into such dark places.

'In the barrows, Uthgerd found the journal of a deceased explorer. The journal mentions the inner tomb being accessible only by finding a number of keys. Khargol suspected that the keys would be similar to the golden claw he found in Bleak Falls Barrow at the beginning of our tale.'

'I don't suppose that dead explorer's journal is one of those documents you have there,' supposed Phane. 'Or is it Uthgerd's diary you are reading from.'

'Uthgerd's,' stated Drelis. 'She was passably literate, but I suspect that some of her own feats are largely exaggerated.

'Where was I? Ah yes, the keys. As they searched for the keys in the smaller tombs, the skeletal remains of the dead animated to defend the charnel houses. Uthgerd writes that she smashed at least twenty skeletons to pieces. In the report that Khargol gave Lydia about the tomb, however, it is suggested that only half a dozen skeletons arose in each tomb. Either way, it was clear that Uthgerd's courage did not waver in the face of the undead.

'When the duo explored deep enough to find draugr, Uthgerd flung herself at them as they appeared. There were times when Khargol left her at intersections to explore side-passages. He was wary of traps and did not want Uthgerd setting them off and getting them both killed.

'The keys turned out to be ceremonial weapons. When they were placed in the door to the final vault, the way was opened. Uthgerd writes that Khargol spoke of echoing voices, something about dragon voices that he could hear down the tunnel. She could not hear anything, however, so we can surmise that non-dragonborn cannot hear the echos of the shouts recorded on the word wall murals.

'The guardian of the word wall, however, was an incredibly powerful phantom named Kvenel. Although Khargol and Uthgerd managed to best his draugr minions, Kvenel's potent magic drove them back into a retreat. They fled from the tomb and sealed the vault to keep the malicious ghost from pursuing them.'

'They had to run away?' Lalaine's voice was full of deflated disbelief. 'You mean that they were defeated?'

'I do.' Drelis drank some more wine. 'Don't worry, Lalaine; Khargol returned much later to face Kvenel's magic again. The night was cold and full of snow when Khargol and Uthgerd emerged from the barrow. They had to hike a little way from the barrow before they found a camp where they could rest safely until morning, but they had survived with only minor injuries. Uthgerd even writes, much later on, that she was plagued with nightmares of Kvenel's unearthly voice and the claustrophobia that the barrows gave her. It must have been a very horrible thing to endure.'

'Does that mean they parted ways?'

'Not yet,' Drelis explained. ' There was still more adventuring to do in the tundra, and Phane will be happy to hear that they include a dragon.'