#fort fellhammer

[scribeofskyrim]

Loredas, 18th of Heartsfire, 4E 201

Divines, I need to focus.

We’re on the road south of Dawnstar, on our way to Windhelm, in a half-ruined fort called Fort Fellhammer and the mines it guards.

I realized that I don’t like to work on the house too long. I get a bit bored going back and forth between the anvil and the supply chests and the workbenches, and I keep running out of lumber, too.

I took one look at the spot where there used to be lumber, and said, “Let’s go look for my fiance/e.”

The others were surprised, and asked why I decided to stop work on the house. Truth be told, part of it was because I didn’t feel like running back and forth to the mill again. But also… It’s been in the back of my mind since I woke up at the Winking Skeever with that mystery makeup smudge on my face. It was distracting, and that Sam guy still owes me a staff.

Besides, I need to set the record straight with whoever I got engaged to. I know I’d feel terrible if someone proposed to me and forgot about it!

So we geared up, filled our waterskins and set off for Morvunskar to try and find Sam Guevenne.

The most direct route is towards Dawnstar, down through the mountains, then over towards Windhelm. We had a quiet trip to Dawnstar, unless you count the couple headed towards Solitude for Vittoria’s wedding. We heard their bickering before we saw them! I felt so bad for the Imperial guard they had escorting them.

We stopped in Dawnstar to warm up (is it ever not bitterly cold in Dawnstar???) and so that Erandur could see how the people were doing.

A week of actual sleep has really improved the town’s mood! We checked in with Jarl Skald, and he was arguing with his housecarl about giving more troops to the rebellion. He’s convinced that Talos is on their side, and that throwing bodies at the fight is the answer.

I don’t know if I agree with that, but Erandur just nodded and said that he would offer some prayers.

For who, he didn’t say.

On the way out of the hall a courier walked up. He had an invite for us from Silus Vesuius about a museum opening in Dawnstar centered on the Order of the Mythic Dawn. Erandur rolled his eyes and scoffed. Another dead cult – Just what Dawnstar needs.

I might give it a look when we get back.

We walked down to the docks to the big boat moored there. I know some can be hired, so I asked Captain Wayfinder - he looks younger than me!- if he was going to Windhelm. He said he can’t go anywhere until he gets the order of fine-cut void salts that his drunken crew misplaced. He said he’d pay me well if I retrieved them, and marked the location of the cave where they’d been lost on the map.

Lucky for us, it’s on the way to Windhelm!

We stopped at the inn to warm up and resupply, but on the way out the same little boy that had nearly been eaten by the dragon burst in and slammed into me!

He apologized, but stepped back when he recognized me. He looked a bit scared, but relaxed when Erandur greeted him by name.

His name is Alesan, and he makes money by running food and supplies back and forth to the miners. I asked after his parents, and he sadly explained that he didn’t have any. His father had been a sailor. Alesan went with him on his last trip, but the man got sick, so the other sailors dropped the two off in Dawnstar and left. Before I could say anything else, he was called to the bar to pick up another bundle of goods for the mines.

Erandur sighed as the boy rushed back out of the inn. He explained that Alesan’s been fending for himself ever since his father died. Erandur had been called in to try and heal the man, but by the time he got there, it was time to perform last rites. He’d offered to set Alesan up with a proper bed at the shrine in Nightcaller Temple, but the boy had refused. He was determined to take care of himself, and found himself a job almost right away.

Erandur said he helps Alesan whenever he can, but the boy refuses charity, for the most part. He gestured to a small blanket, neatly folded by the fire. “That’s where the boy sleeps,” he said. He looked sadder than he did in Nightcaller Temple, surrounded by the bodies of people he'd once called friends, and Valdimar put a hand on his shoulder.

I noticed that the blanket was the same warm yellow as Erandur’s priest robes.

We all looked at each other, and I slipped a few Septims into the folds of the blanket before we left.

I can’t get the thought of that poor kid out of my head. I mean, good for him taking care of himself, but that’s hard enough to do in a bustling city like the Capitol, with lots of food stalls to swipe from and rich people wanting to make themselves look good by throwing coins at beggars. He’s out here in the middle of nowhere, in the cold and ice!

They really do grow them different here in Skyrim.

We set off through the mountain pass, and it wasn’t long before we started to freeze again. Erandur said he knew of a small, abandoned keep nearby that once guarded a mine: Fort Fellhammer. The plan was to stop in quickly just to warm up, so we veered off the main road and walked through the gate.

Erandur apologized immediately. The fort was abandoned last he knew. It was quiet when we first walked in, but the bandits that used to be on guard duty outside popped out when they heard us.

It wasn’t a hard fight, and there were two doors to choose from. One went down into the mine, and the other into the keep.

I figured there would be less people in the mine, so I picked the lock and we went in. Valdimar commented on that, actually. He’d seen how badly my hands were shaking, and was surprised that it only took me three tries to open it.

Lydia came in last, and shut the door behind us. I heard her whisper to Valdimar, “That’s a tough lock.”

I don’t think she realizes how much louder her helmet makes her voice.

So down we went, and took out about half a dozen bandits in the tunnels below. It was hard fighting in such close quarters, but we did get a fair amount of loot off of them, and I took the time to mine all the iron I could!

After all, I still have a house to finish.

We left the mine and warmed up by the smelter before going up top to the other door. I was expecting even more bandits, but there were only two rooms and their leader up there.

Even though it’s not very late, the weather has gotten worse, so we’re going to stay here for the night.

I don’t know if any more bandits are going to show up, so we’re going to do a watch rotation. Besides, there’s only three beds.

-----

First watch is mine, as usual, and I can’t help but think of Alesan. The storm is terrible, and I know it’s even colder in Dawnstar, what with the sea wind coming right into town like it does. He should be safe and warm enough at the inn at this hour, and that blanket is thick, but it won’t do much against the stone floor.

I know I left him enough to get some food, at least.

Damn it. I need to make some space for him at one of the houses once I get this whole fiance/e thing cleared up. Who knows? Maybe I’ll actually like the person when I’m sober and they can take care of him?

That’s a plan. Maybe not a good plan, but it’s something.

[late-nite-scholar]

Aug 18 (Day 7)- Companion/Fallen

Braith was a bully, until Besharat took her under her wing and gave her a better purpose. She taught her to be a true Yokudan warrior in the ancient ways only newly rediscovered. Story based on a surprising letter Besharat received in-game, but reimagined as happening a number of years post-game. Prompts by @tes-summer-fest

Warnings- violence, blood 

Wordcount- ~1700

***

Braith came into the training yard for our lesson, her face red and puffy. Her knuckles were white around the scabbard of her father's sword and her expression was like stone. I was going to ask her what had happened but she spoke before I could.

"Ansei Besharat, my father has journeyed to the Far Shores." Her voice held no emotion, though her hands tightened even more on the scabbard. 

"May he be welcomed by the Ancestors," I said automatically, before adding, "Do you know what happened?" 

"He went out on a job. An upstart, would-be warlord, his brothers-in-arms told me. Of the ten that went out, only four returned. They did not bring my father's body back. They only brought his sword. Ansei, may I ask something?" 

"Of course." 

"I am honor bound to recover my father's body and armor. I formally request to undertake my Warrior's Trial and begin my Walkabout. Let me prove myself and take my place among you." 

"Braith…" I began. 

But she cut me off. "I must do this, Ansei! If I don't, then everything I've learned from you is for nothing! I must see my father laid properly to rest, and my honor demands justice for his death. You have shown me what it means to be Yokudan, and I will do no less than our ancestors!" 

"Of course. Then I will accompany you. By the traditions of the Companions, an observer from the Circle joins those on their Trial. And, as Ansei, I am honor bound to accompany you as my student, even if not for much longer." 

"Thank you, Ansei." Her voice wavered. 

“Allow me to inform everyone else that we will be leaving, and then we will gather our supplies and go. Do you know where this warlord is?” 

“He is at Fort Fellhammer. I was told he has a number of men at his disposal. I do not care for them. I only want him, and my father.” 

We went into the Hall. Thankfully, Vilkas was sitting in his spot by the fire with Orielle, chatting. But they both stopped when they saw us approach. 

“I'm glad you're both here. I'm leaving for a little while. Braith is going on her Trial and I will be going with her.” I said bluntly. "Can you tell Farkas when he gets back? We're leaving right away." 

“Oh?” Vilkas studied us before asking, “Something has happened, hasn't it?” 

Braith replied before I could. “My father has fallen. I must avenge him, and recover his body.” 

“Mara’s mercy! I'm so sorry, my dear!” Orielle cried, jumping to her feet. They hugged for a long moment before Orielle put her hand on Braith’s shoulder. “That is a heavy burden for anyone of fifteen. But you are a trained Yokudan warrior and I know you will prove that when the time comes.” 

“Thank you.” 

***

“How do you wish to approach this?” I asked as we surveyed the fort. We'd spoken of different scenarios on our way up north, but hadn't made any firm decisions. 

“My quarrel is with the leader, and Nords respect courage. I will challenge him in front of his men so he can't refuse.”

I held my tongue, my instincts as a parent and teacher ready to object. But I couldn’t. This was Braith’s Trial, not only as part of the Companions but also her Walkabout as a Sword-Singer. And especially for the latter it was important for her to take the lead. So I nodded, only saying, “They may underestimate you. Do not let them make you angry.”

Her smile was all teeth. “I hope they do. It will be all the sweeter when my sword takes them, then.”

We marched up to the gate. The two guards on duty looked askance at us. “What’s a couple of Redguards want here? You girls lost?”

Braith replied, all full of sweetness. “I have an important message for Galar War-Axe. I need to speak with him.”

“And why would anyone send you with a message?”

“To not raise suspicion?” she replied smoothly. “Who’s going to suspect little old me?”

The one guard sighed. “Fine. But no funny stuff. Just get going.” 

No one gave us a second look as we made our way through the halls, only pointing us in the right direction when Braith asked. It wasn’t long before we reached the central room. It was a receiving room, for whatever lord or general had overseen this place. Now, it was decorated with animals pelts and weapons and armor, no doubt taken from people killed by this rabble. I picked out Amren’s armor among those displayed, and by how she gripped the hilt of her sword, I knew Braith saw it, too. 

Galar sat on a chair in the center of the room like a throne, watching us enter. He was big and blond and boisterous, but something about him was like a coiled serpent. His men watched, too. But we were also assessing the situation, and the tension turned very thick very quickly. 

“Who’re you two?” Galar demanded. 

“My name is Braith at-Amren. I have come to challenge you for the body and armor of my father, who you slew.” She took a step forward, her face again that blank, stone stare. 

Galar laughed. “Are you for real, little girl? How about you and your mum here get out of here and quit wasting my time. I don’t like having my time wasted.”

“I assure you, I am not here to waste your time. I challenge you, by the old laws, for my honor and as wergild for the death of my father. Refuse me and been seen as a coward in the eyes of your men.”

That got their attention. Galar stood, he was shorter than I expected but nearly as broad as Farkas. He sighed through his nose, annoyance plain on his face. “Fine then, little girl. Then let us have a proper duel if you insist.”

His men stepped back, forming a circle to either side of me. Only Braith and Galar stood in the center. My heart pounded, but I maintained a calm exterior. I didn’t like this at all. Better that we’d simply stormed the place and fought together. But it was too late for that. 

They circled each other warily. I appraised Galar. He moved with experienced ease, his big axe easy in his hands. He would have reach with it, but Braith had done a lot of training against axes with Farkas, and this one was not as fast or fine as Wuuthrad. Still, Galar would be no easy opponent. 

He attacked first, but Braith was ready. They danced for a long time, or at least, what felt like a long time. I could see Galar begin to get annoyed. Braith was quicker than he’d anticipated.

But he was experienced. He swung, and I saw his plan as he moved. The axe sank into Braith’s shield, then with a snarl he twisted it, ripping the shield from her arm. A small gasp passed my lips, but I allowed no other reaction. I couldn’t. Not even when the axe swung again and Braith rolled, the blade missing her by only a hair. The rest of the men were absolutely silent, fixated on the fight. 

Galar shoved Braith with the handle of his axe, sending her rolling again. But when she regained her feet she lifted her left hand, and a quick, powerful melody rushed from her lips. 

“Singing won’t help ya, girlie,” Galar scoffed. But that scoffed soon turned to surprise as a blade of white light appeared in her hand. She rushed forward, ducking under his swing. He grabbed the sword in her right hand with his bare fingers, unbalancing her. But in response, I saw something impossible; she swung her shehai and I followed it, but it struck at an impossible angle. Like it had suddenly changed course on its own to bypass even the Best Known Cuts, as if the blade itself could see the opening to strike. And strike it did, right through his throat. Galar gargled, dropping his axe as the shehai ripped back out. He fell to the ground, and very soon it was over. 

The men around me stared, and began to whisper. Braith turned in a slow circle, meeting the eyes of each one. “I am Braith at-Amren. I am a Sword Singer, an Ansei. I have won the right to claim my payment. I will take the armor and body of my father, and I have taken wergild for his death. I have no quarrel with any of you, and if you allow me to take what is mine, then I will leave with no further bloodshed. If you wish to fight, then my teacher and I will destroy you all. For we are both Ansei, and she is the Dragonborn. I leave the choice up to you.”

They all looked at her, and then they looked at me, and as one they backed up. One spoke for them. “We wish no further fight. Take your father’s armor and whatever else you require, young warrior, and then we will show you where the bodies of the dead are thrown.”

***

About an hour later, we were back on the road to Whiterun. Amren’s armor and that of his companions were loaded onto my horse, while his wrapped body, frozen by a quick frost spell and covered with a lesser ward to keep it safe, rode on the back of Braith’s. 

She rode straight, shoulders squared. But she smiled at me. “I did it, Ansei.”

“You did, and we will formally welcome you into the Companions when we return to Whiterun.”

“Is there anything more I must do to be declared Ansei?”

“No. You have declared it yourself. You have defeated your enemy with both your shehai and the Ephemeral Feint. We will give offerings to the gods and you may declare it again if you wish, but that title is already yours.”

“Thank you, Ansei.”

I laughed. “Just Besharat now! You’re Ansei, too! And I am beyond proud of you, Braith at-Amren.”

“Of course, Besharat. And thank you.”

[astarab1aze]

Nations & Their Cities - 2

Scarburn

Capital: Margrove

Cities: Braemare, Montrose, Arborden, Hagscroft, Rumfort, Rockhill, Grennock, Kildarling, High Gate, Bloodswell, Netherly, Wounshire

Sights: Highgarden, Cicatrician Hills, Mad Hag's Lesion, Loch Lettie, Pseudocilium Forest, the Feyrie Graves, Margrovian Viaduct, Par'Sylfie, Cain Fort, Carnival Rock, Bledsoe Creek, Kobold's Split

Vitale

Capital: Ru Gravis

Cities: Lupatera, Praetoria, Venefica, Venavera, Infernum, Imperratore, Melmalum, Cornix, Melmanus, Lupa Stella, Sicaria, Fortuna, Pallens, Cat's Cradle, Impetua

Sights: The Pale Watch, the Hellmouth, the Descent, the Devil's Pit, Umbral Sepulchre, Tenibresian Steppes, Simulacral Towers, Domine Lupus, Blackthorn Brush, Hellhound's Brace (prison), Lake of Fire, Port Angelus, Lux-en-Tenebris

Nouxfret

Capital: Colline-de-Ven

Cities: Occitienne, Touxlon, Ysère, Paliseux, Pon Cleux, Vonveille, Pommefore, Clementina, Beaunaire, Grainerie, Ville Aimante

Sights: Wind Collector's Ridge, Port Lumineux, Palais Corveaux, Ossus Promenade, Canal de Lumineux, Mon Claire, Caldeira Ver, Grotte du Dragonne, Blue Roseraie, Salle des Mort, Veines du Monde, (part of the) Cicatrician Hills

The Barrowfells

Capital: Knottly

Cities: Deepfall, Drath, Dresden, Nurada, Wellburrow, Fellhammer, Baelfrost, Pangold, Irontown, Soot, Knothung, Denthelm, Donar, Southport, New Grand Eyrie, Steelfold, Armora

Sights: Southern Pass, Iceflow, Khuthd's Burn, Splitpeak, Vulka's Forge, Barrowborn Mines, Simmerflow Mine, the Forge-King's Monument, Tor's Hammerstone, Vale of Fire, Knife Ridge, Run-Off Caves, Surfacer's Tradepost, Balroga, Goblin & Myhala Tunnels, Helforge Bastion, Knocker's Trove

Seralta

Capital: Argesh

Cities: Marakeem, Khadisha, Cyrus, Tereeza, Myr, Efirit, Gisul, Khesi, Taissyr, Eleeza, Fherah, Sahari'el, T'shari, Jada, Urzza, Sahti, Qamar

Sights: The Eternal Desert, Imperial Highway of Argesha, Tomb of the Maleficar, Odesza's Spout, Fountain of Manah, Uzzani River System, Lakes Eashal and Laban, Ahmari Steppe, Temple of Holy Mother Sahari'el de Sunjat, Alfil Bato (pirate city), Alqarnus' Cove, Qamari'el's Labyrinthe, Sabaari Forest, the Taniyn Ashlands, Port of Dukhat

[mrvalindor]

Anora, a redguard pirate. Entry three.

Today, I finally reached Fort Fellhammer, and it wasn’t nearly as risky as Skald the Elder made it out to be. Perhaps that old man is just a coward, or perhaps I’m the best swordswoman in Skyrim. I suspect both of these things to be true. Gods, it was too easy to slay all of the bandits at that place, there must have been less than twenty of them occupying the fort. They were holding quite a bit of loot though, including a lot of gold, weapons, potions and armor I’d be able to sell when I returned to Dawnstar. Aside from the monetary gain, Fort Fellhammer proved an interesting opportunity to practise my sneak skill; I was able to stealthily take out the majority of the bandits before the chief even knew I was there! I did get rather a lot of blood on my nice new clothes though.

[blcdeforhire]

an “alternate ending” to this thing that @welcometoaltima wanted me to write.

     Tracking them down hadn’t been easy. You’d not expected it to be easy, all things considered, but you’d not expected it to be this difficult, either. For a group of so-called werewolf hunters, they’d made themselves particularly difficult to pin down. You’d asked some of the locals, but none of them seemed to be even remotely aware of the Silver Hand existing at all.

     Instead, you’d sought help from the Companions, who seemed to know where the hideouts of their main enemy were hidden away.

     ❝ Driftshade Refuge, ❞ Salvasi had responded when you’d asked for their assistance. ❝ It’s out in the Pale, between Frostflow Lighthouse and Fort Fellhammer. Here. ❞ She’d marked it on your map, which you were eternally grateful for because you weren’t sure you’d find it any other way.

     So, with a few supplies packed away in a bag and a few weapons strapped to your hips and back, you mounted your horse and began the long journey north.

     Despite how far you had to travel, it only take about half a day to reach your destination. You dismount your horse at a safe distance, tying it to a tree and giving it a soft pat on the neck before moving forward. Driftshade looked like an old fort of some kind, given the collapsed stone walls. Only one building was truly intact, and you suspected that it had been, at one point, the fort dungeon.

     Even from your position, safely hidden by the foliage, you could see two of the Silver Hand keeping watch. There were multiple ways you could’ve gone about this: summon an atronach and risk giving yourself away; draw your sword and attempt to take them on in a frontal assault; or draw your bow and shoot them down from your current position. After a short time to contemplate your options, you decide on the third. It would be your safest way in, and, at least if you missed, it would provide a decent distraction.

     An arrow is drawn back, your gaze steady; sights set upon the one guarding the door, you wait another moment longer before releasing the draw string. The arrow goes soaring, hitting its target dead on; by the time the second one has come ‘round to investigate, you’ve already had the chance to notch another arrow and ready it. Your eyes follow them for a few moments before you loose the second arrow. They turn just in time to get the arrow tip to their throat. Only once they’ve fallen and ceased moving do you dare tread out from the cover of the foliage, keeping low just in case. You don’t even bother to loot the corpses left behind before you make your way into the building.

     As you’d suspected, it was far larger in here than its outward appearance lead one to believe. Most of it was underground, and your initial suspicions are confirmed. While it didn’t look like much any more, the layout of the area told you that this had been the fort dungeon once upon a time. Most of the place looked relatively intact, though piles of rubble lined some of the walls.

     Down the steps do you travel, pausing when you catch movement down below you. Two more Silver Hand were patrolling the room; one, you could tell, was an archer. Perhaps it would be best to deal with them first, you decide, drawing back another arrow. The tip is leveled with the back of their neck, your hands steady and your sharp gaze focused from behind hazy goggles. For several beats, you don’t move, crouched behind the small stone parapet as best you can. Then you release the arrow, watching as it soars through the air and hits its target dead center. There’s a gargled gasp as they topple forward from their chair; their friend comes rushing over, sword drawn in a defensive manner. As they turn, you get the satisfaction of planting yet another arrow between their eyes.

     As you go to move forward, a horrifying scream echoes through the fort. You go completely rigid, breath catching in your throat. You recognized that scream, you knew that voice--

     Throwing caution to the wind, you hurry down the steps and to the wooden door across the way. You try to open it, to no avail; it’s barred from the other side, and you’re not physically strong enough to break it down. Still, you ram your shoulder into the wood a handful of times, until you’re sure you’d end up with a nasty bruise; the door doesn’t move an inch, and you hit it with your fist in frustration. Looks like you’d be taking the long way around.

     You should be moving silently, cautiously, picking off Silver Hand as you go, but in your fury you forget to do just that. Every werewolf hunter that comes your way gets an arrow between the eyes, whether you shoot it at them or stab it through their skull with your own two hands. They would regret this, you’d make sure of that.

     Despite how quickly you manage to work through the fort, it feels as though it’s been an agonizing process. Your armor is torn in places, fresh wounds mingling with old scars, as if your body was a canvas and their weapons a paintbrush. You pause for a brief moment to cast a Fast Healing spell upon yourself, before you drop your bow upon the ground and draw your sword. No matter what you found on the other side of this door, their leader would pay for what they’d done to Bezi.

     With a deep breath, you let the door swing open and step inside.

     In that moment, your nerve seems to leave you. Bezi is strung up on one of the wooden posts, silver weapons glistening with his blood. They’d impaled him at least a dozen times, if not more, with daggers and swords and silver-tipped arrows. He appears completely lifeless, usually bright blue eyes radiating with warmth now shockingly cold and empty. You can feel the lump in your throat, threatening to choke you, as your vision starts to blur. They killed him, strung him up like a game trophy for all to see. They treated his corpse like a prize - the thought alone gets your blood boiling once more.

     Despite the tears collecting in your eyes, your gaze sharpens once more and turns to settle upon the leader of the Silver Hand. He strolls towards you with confidence, expression smug and his weapon held lax in his grip. You’re certain your knuckles are turning white from how tightly you’re gripping your own. With a howl of fury, you rush him, fully intent on making sure he doesn’t leave this place alive.

     Metal clashes against metal as the two of you battle. Even in spite of the fury burning white-hot in your chest, you’re able to think clearly. Rushing head-long into a fight without thinking strategically has rarely ever wielded satisfactory results; that was something you’d learned a long time ago. Through all of this, your opponent seems to find himself regretting his decision; he was larger in stature, if by only a small margin, though more heavily-armored. You’re able to dance circles around him and his greatsword, shooting in to land a few strikes before leaping out of harm’s reach.

     Eventually, you impale him on your weapon. He lets out a gasp, sword clattering to the stone floor hollowly. Breathing heavily, you lean forward to look him in the eye.

     ❝ That’s for Bezi. ❞ And then you remove your sword and watch as he collapses, lifeless, to the floor.

     Without even pausing to think, you make your way towards your friend, exhaustion weighing heavily on you. Using your dagger, you cut him free and lower him to the floor. The tears have sprung up anew, blurring your vision again; you remove your helmet and toss it aside, running the back of your sleeve across your eyes. Then you set yourself to removing the weapons from the giant’s form, grunting with the effort of trying to remove the arrows in one piece. Once they’ve all been freed from his body, you use a Healing Hands spell, though you’re not really sure why. Bezi was dead because you hadn’t been fast enough to save him.

     So wrapped up in your thoughts are you that you don’t even notice the light return to Bezi’s eyes - you don’t even realize he’s alive until you hear him gasping for air. Startled, you jerk back a hair and turn a surprised look upon him. Gods be praised, he was alive!

     ❝ Tel...? ❞ The poor man sounds completely exhausted, and in no small amount of pain. ❝ Wh-- where am I? ❞

     ❝ That’s not important, ❞ you tell him, smiling in spite of the tears that fall. ❝ You’re okay now. That’s all that matters. ❞

     He offers you a weak smile, barely able to move from all of the silver in his system. He was extremely warm to the touch, dark skin flushed from fever; you felt like it would be a few days yet before he could travel of his own accord.

     ❝ I want-- I want to go home, ❞ he murmurs. ❝ Take me back home, Tel. ❞

     ❝ I can try. Let me help you up... ❞

     Retrieving your helmet, you place it back over your head before helping him to his feet. He’s leaning heavily against you, feet dragging as he struggles to walk; you’re forced to hobble slowly towards the door and up the stairs, more than ready to leave this horrible place behind. Once outside, your horse kneels so that Bezi can mount without much struggle. You untie it from the tree as it stands, and slowly but surely you begin the long trek back to Whiterun.

     For the next couple of weeks, you stay with him at Jorrvaskr, tending to him to the best of your abilities. He thanks you every time, but you can’t help the guilt that eats away at you.

     If you’d moved more quickly, he wouldn’t have been harmed.

     This was your fault.

[scribeofskyrim]

Sundas, 19th of Heartsfire, 4E 201

We’re in Candlehearth Hall in Windhelm, and I wish I could say the city’s welcome was warmer than the weather.

I’d take the bone-cutting wind any day.

We left Fort Fellhammer and went down through the mountain pass. It’s more of a track than a road, but there are some spots with walls and cobbles that tell you you’re still going the right way.

We found a cave not too far along, but it certainly wasn’t the one we were looking for with the void salts! It was full of bandits and Falmer! We went in a little ways, then turned around and left. It felt like it was more trouble than it was worth at the moment. I just wanted to get here.

Along the way to the cave (actually called Shrouded Grove on the map) we fought a bunch of saber cats, bears, wolves, and even ice wraiths! We found a large shrine of Talos at a place Lydia said was called the Weynon Stones, too. I took the opportunity to get a blessing.

We stumbled into the Shrouded Grove sort of by accident. Spriggans came out of the trees and attacked us! They’re sort of pretty, in a creepy way? I don’t know, I just think they would be nice to look at if they weren’t trying to kill us and didn’t sound like they were full of angry bees. We fought them off, and figured that the cave right there must be it. We were right, and found a bear, a wolf, and a bigger, angrier spriggan inside.

On closer inspection it looked like the cave was actually a small, ancient tomb. There were a few dead bodies around, and the remains of a ruined sarcophagus and some stonework that was obviously carved by people. We found the void salts, along with a book and some gold before we left.

I was starting to freeze again, so I built a fire once we got out of there. I’m glad I always keep enough firewood on me to build one! The wind kept it from warming us very much, so we had to pitch the tent and huddle inside.

Poor Erandur. I’ve heard that Dunmer are resistant to fire, but get cold easily. I think he was bundled into his fur cloak more tightly than I was. Valdimar and Lydia were fine, and even offered their cloaks to us as an extra layer while we warmed up!

Nords.

Luckily, it didn’t take me long to feel my toes again, and we were able to keep going.

I swear, it felt like every wild animal for miles decided to come at us while we headed for Windhelm. There’s a lake on the way, that turns into a river. I couldn’t tell which way the path went along the shore, so I picked Right and we kept going.

Turns out, that was the wrong choice. We saw a few houses surrounding a mill across the water, but my luck, such as it is, held out and we spotted a shallow spot with some stones for a mostly dry crossing.

Since we were right there, I went to order some logs from the lady running the mill but before I even got up to her she started to yell at me. I learned her name was Aeri, and she thought Jarl Skald had sent me. He’s getting impatient about an order of logs. I told her I wasn’t there for him, but agreed to let him know that they were on their way when we went back. I did order some logs for me, though. No rush!

It was getting dark, so we started to hurry towards Windhelm. I could just see it through the blowing snow. There was a bridge up ahead, and we saw a pack of wolves attack and kill a group of adventurers on the other side.

We took care of the wolves and kept going, but Erandur and I were starting to freeze again. I was so tired. It felt like my boots were made of stone! Erandur asked us to step back, and was suddenly surrounded in an aura of fire, but it didn’t feel like magic.

Then, everything went dark, and I woke up back by the mill, to the sound of whispers and the dog whining.

We were on the ground, but I was mostly in Valdimar’s lap. He was holding me upright in one arm, and in the other he held a torch close for extra warmth. Lydia was next to me, pulling a warm mug of ale away from my lips, and the dog was on my other side, nudging at me with his nose. In front of me was Erandur, holding a glowing coal in the palm of his hand. The other he had over my heart, and his eyes were closed tightly while he whispered prayers. I was still groggy, and saw him switch hands with the coal. I had no idea what he was doing until I felt his almost-burning hand over my heart, and the heat radiating from it.

I came to my senses with a gasp, and asked what happened. Aeri leaned over (I hadn’t seen her before) and said my friends saved my life, that’s what!

Lydia had come bursting into her house in the middle of dinner and told her that I’d gone down. So, Aeri grabbed a skillet, scooped some coals from the fire, and ran out to me. She explained that bringing me into the house could heat me up too quickly, and actually do more harm than good.

At this point my hands and feet started to hurt as feeling came back to them, so Lydia handed me the mug to drink from and warm my hands. She took the torch from Valdimar and started yelling at me, saying not to scare them like that again, and was I mad for not dressing warmer, and and and… You know, normal Lydia. Valdimar just wrapped me in a big, warm bear hug while I sipped, and put his chin on my head. I could feel him shake a bit in silent laughter at her as she chided me. With the way she was waving the torch around and gesturing, she looked like the mad one! Erandur took off my boots to make sure I still had all my toes. He ran his hands through the hot coals in the skillet before he rubbed at my feet, going back and forth to keep the heat until everything stopped hurting.

I don’t think I’ll ever get the soot stains out of my socks, but it’s a small price to pay for working toes.

Aeri let Lydia rant for a little, then said I was lucky to have such good people around me. She looked at Lydia and mentioned that they were lucky, too. Lydia asked what she meant, and Aeri said, matter-of-factly, that they wouldn’t have saved me if I wasn’t worth it.

And that’s why she always keeps an old skillet by the fire, she said. Happens pretty often, even in the warmer months.

By this time I was warm again, and Erandur had gotten my boots back on and laced up for me. We thanked Aeri for her help, gave her back her skillet, and headed towards Windhelm.

Again.

As we got close to where I had fallen – I saw a big dent in the snow - I remembered what I’d last seen before I blacked out, and asked Erandur about it.

He explained that it was a Dunmer ability, something that all of his kind can do. The spell Flame Cloak is based on it. He was using it to warm himself up, and had planned to stand near me to offer some warmth, but he hadn’t realized how close I was to collapsing.

Valdimar laughed and said that poor Aeri nearly dropped her skillet when she stepped outside. She came out of her house to see Valdimar running up, carrying me, with “Hot Stuff” next to him, still on fire!

We had a good laugh at the nickname, and Erandur groaned and pulled his hood over his face. He was still next to me, though, and he was trying to look mad, but I could tell he was smiling – Maybe even blushing a little. When we were done teasing, the priest chuckled, and said there wasn’t much else he could do until we got there, anyway. “Might as well light the way, right?”

We were still laughing about it as we got into Windhelm, but our mood quickly changed.

Just as we passed through the main gate, we ran into some bigots shouting abuse and threats at a Dunmer woman in the street. They left as we got near. After I reassured her that I’m not like those skeever-faced goons – I’m sure it helped that Erandur was next to me - I asked if she was all right. Sadly, she’s used to it.

Her name is Suvaris Atheron, and she said that while the men say they think the Dunmer are Imperial spies, it’s really just the latest excuse they can come up with to be arseholes. They like to get drunk and go into the Gray Quarter, where the Dunmer in Windhelm live, and be a nuisance. She invited us to visit the Quarter for drinks sometime, then she bid us a better evening before she went on her way.

Part of me wants to give those men a talking to with my axe. The other part wants to let Erandur at them, but Valdimar and Lydia were looking awfully murderous, too.

Well, if they decide to take a little walk around town after we’re done with dinner here, I’m not gonna stop them.

But I’m ready to get some rest. The dog’s been glued to my side, and I’m glad for it. It’s chilly even indoors, here. I’ll see if I can get him to lay on my feet in the bed.

[mrvalindor]

Anora, a redguard pirate. Entry two.

Still on my way to Fort Fellhammer, I stumbled across a cosy-looking building with a thatched roof that housed at least a dozen men and women dressed in mages robes. I’ll admit, my curiosity for anything and everything I haven’t seen before is certainly something I need to get under control, but it did work out rather well this time. I took my time introducing myself to this group, who called themselves the Vigilants of Stendarr, and pickpocketed them for everything they had. They put an unusual amount of trust in me, so I decided to sneak around and steal anything of value in their little hall. When I headed downstairs, into the basement, there was a single Vigilant of Stendarr sitting among many treasures that I couldn’t bear to leave behind. So I stabbed her. These mages must have been particularly perceptive because they heard her screams from upstairs, and quickly rushed to her aid. Unfortunately for them, I am unparalleled when it comes to my skill in combat, so I took them all out with ease. There was a lot of blood, but there was also a lot of gold. And that’s what I do this for.