'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.'
No comments:
Post a Comment