Being too clever can create problems for you. Especially when the world sees cleverness as a tool to be used, and clever people much the same. Farri, a Khajiiti prisoner from House Redoran, has found this out the hard way.
Clever Craft (TES: V Skyrim SI)
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Ch 1
Chairtastic
Anything's a chair if you're brave enough
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Clever Craft by Chairtastic
Summary: Being too clever can create problems for you. Especially when the world sees cleverness as a tool to be used, and clever people much the same. Farri, a Khajiiti prisoner from House Redoran, has found this out the hard way.
Author's Note: Alright, alright. Another Skyrim story. Not a reboot of Skooma Cat, tried that, didn't work, leave the past where it is. We're going to be having some fun. Some empire smashing, maybe some building. A bit of yucks, a bit of violence, and delicious burning of the stations of the canon. Mehrunes Dagon ain't got shit on me!
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Chapter One: Chain Yanking
Highpoint Tower Mine
Shift Lead Niyya
She trudged through grey-brown ash banks, leader of a line of miners all dressed as she was. Slick clothes that wouldn't catch the ash as it fell, no area of skin exposed lest the ash get in and poison their lungs.
Their packs, complete with picks and everything they would need for their month-long shift at the mine, were covered much the same. Every four miners had a guardian walk at their flank, to keep them safe in the event of reavers.
Niyya led the group because she had the most mining experience, she had been a miner for forty-nine years and a shift lead for twenty-one of them. She knew magic to keep a mine from collapsing and she knew how to fight off bandits -- or reavers, as they called themselves in Morrowind -- on her own.
She also knew illusion magic, enough to calm or inspire bravery, and one particular spell the Highpoint Tower Mine valued more than anything. Clairvoyance -- a spell to find where you wanted to go, or what you wanted to find. Caved in? Find a way around it. Prospecting ore? Led right to a vein.
Farri, a long-time fixture of their mine, had taught it to her. He'd apparently seen the spell work but didn't know the fundamentals of illusion magic. Once Niyya taught those to him, he paid her back with Clairvoyance.
In the immediate, the spell helped her find her damned way to the mine through all the ashfall and changed terrain. Every month the near-constant ashfall would create dunes as it met the wind and frozen soil, and the landscape had a tendency to radically change.
She held her hand aloft, and a path of light only she could see stretched out before her toward a dark blob high on the slopes they climbed. She released the magic, pointed where it had showed her, and led them toward the mine. Most of the journey was done in silence, to reduce the chance of ash in the lungs.
On the edge of a valley, surrounded by dead broken pines was a dead broken Imperial fort. Broken pieces of the fort lay scattered around them, with the only remnants being the namesake Highpoint Tower, and part of an old curtain wall. It shielded the mine's entrance from the ashfall, at least.
Niyya broke the line and stood at the edge of a stonework tunnel next to a long-dead tree. She helped the miners behind her get in the tunnel speedily, while the guards joined her around the entrance. They would remain outside until the departing shift and minerals were on the move, then escort them back to town.
Once all the miners in her shift had been brought into the mine, Niyya followed after them. In the antechamber of the wrecked tower, her miners were already stripping off their ash-repellant gear as the departing shift donned theirs.
"How's the weather out there, Niyya?" The departing shift lead, a blue-skined, red-eyed dark elf Dravynea asked as she made sure her boots were on proper.
"Good and sunny," Niyya lied as easily as breathing, once she had her helmet off. Niyya was Redguard while Dravynea a Dunmer, taller and more visibly aged than the departing shift lead. "You might catch a tan if you stay out enough." As she undid her ash-repellant gear, she got to breathing the good mine air and her mood improved. "Ash is thick -- be prepared to use magic to find your way back."
"Same as always." Dravynea shook her head and hauled her pack up. "We got the new cook this month, replacing Farri. She's alright, but afraid to take risks. Excellent with eggs. The new Alchemist hasn't arrived yet."
"As long as I have fewer men breathing fire from both ends, I'll be happy with her." Niyya shuddered at the memories. Men always wanted to be manly and demand the food be made with the most fire salt they could manage -- and they always regretted it mid-shift. "Farri leaving with you? I want to say goodbye."
Dravynea's face soured and she tightened the straps on her pack too much. "I expected him to, but Renden said someone's coming to pick him up." There was an edge in her voice, her blood-red eyes were narrowed, she glanced over her shoulder down the stairs with a snear. "My gut says that fetcher is plotting something."
"I'll try keep him from doing anything powerfully stupid." Niyya crossed her arms and glanced in that same direction. "But I'm not a Dunmer, he has more leeway with me than you."
"If you can, send word with the food deliveries. The haul was mostly gems this month, those'll go fast. I can be back up here with some of my boys, a few torches, maybe even a pitchfork for tradition's sake." Dravynea put on her helmet, and nodded to Niyya as she walked toward the door.
Niyya's crew had already gone downstairs, following the smell of spice and sugar in the air. She followed after them, after she folded her gear up in an old storage room in the antechamber.
Niyya had been in plenty of mines through the decades, but Highpoint Tower was the first mine where the best air was underground. It was a gem-and-ore mine on Solstheim, an island far in the frozen north of Tamriel, in the middle of the ash wastes.
The air outside was constantly full of ash from volcanic eruptions out in Morrowind proper, but the inside was kept clean. Magic, alchemy, and odd Morrowind animals were responsible.
On the first level, below the antechamber, there was a landing where a brazier burned green fire. A Dunmer sat nearby, with a stack of plants wrapped in white cloths for feeding the fire -- an alchemical way to clean the air as folks checked in -- and a board and quil in his hands.
Niyya checked in with him, and continued down. Past the next level, where the gems recovered would be polished and put in a safe, and down to the mine proper. The gemstones were closest to the surface, so they had been found first.
Queer white spiders, native to Morrowind, had been brought in to spin their webs along the mine's walls for cave-in resistance. Niyya didn't mind them, they were smaller than dogs which made them better than Skyrim's spiders.
Farri had been the one to put together the right herbs to burn for the clean air, and who had figured how to tame the spiders. With a bit of help from a long-gone miner who had been a seamstress, Farri had figured how to make their ash-repellant gear from the spider's silk.
Deeper into the mine were the ore veins, where the old Imperial cellars met Nordic ruins. This resulted in enough space for the miners to live their month-long shifts underground without much madness.
In a section of the Nordic ruins wing of the mine was the alchemy lab and kitchens. Niyya went there to check in on the mine's long-term staff.
The new cook, a young smooth-skin Dunmer girl, waved at Niyya as she stirred a pot over a fire. It smelled like horker and ash yam stew, always good to get miners through a shift. She had thick metal bracers on her forearms which looked new.
Niyya's heart sank to see them. Old slave bracers repurposed to be used for prisoners once slavery had become illegal -- except as punishment for a crime. "Well met," Niyya said with some forced cheer. She smiled and made sure she met the new cook's eyes -- if she treated her like an equal, the girl would remember freedom longer.
Niyya hated that she'd worked with so many prisoner-slaves in Morrowind to know that.
"And same to you, serjo," the girl introduced herself. "I'm Farwesu, I'll be taking over Farri's duties once he's released."
"So I hear. I'm Niyya, the shift lead. Any of my miners give you trouble, you raise your voice and I'll come running. Dravynea said you're good with eggs?"
"Yes!" The girl, likely too young for marriage in the weird elven notion of such things, visibly brightened at the topic. "I'm really good with kwama eggs, but I'm told there's no kwama mines on Solstheim. But I was studying Breton cooking, and they use lots of bird and fish eggs."
"Well, as long as you can stand up to my crew on how much spice they get in their meals, I'll be happy."
Farwesu's ears lowered slightly, an odd thing elves and Khajiit could do. "Ah. Yes. That's… been somewhat of a consistent topic." She glanced over her shoulder, then lowered her voice. "Is… Farri liberal with the fire and void salts?"
Years of memories, full of boisterous young folk who ate their meals with competing amounts of fire salt, played out before Niyya's eyes. Farri actively did not care if a miner wanted their serving spiced well beyond their tolerance -- he'd do it. It would make him and the other miners laugh when the poor fetcher went running to the latrine, and she'd get yelled at for low productivity.
"Yes," was all she said on the subject, however. "Have you seen him, actually?"
Farwesu pointed Niyya into the next room in the ruin, where potions and booze were kept for storage.
Therein, she found the cat of the hour. A Khajiit, one of the cat-men of Elsweyr, though Niyya doubted Farri had ever been out of Morrowind. A child of slaves brought to the dark elf nation generations ago. Khajiit came in many sizes, and Farri was one of the shortest -- at two-thirds Niyya's height.
The cat had his back to her, putting small bottles out of a basket and into a refitted wine rack next to the alcohol casks. An ear flicked back toward her as he worked. "Good to see you didn't break a hip in the bath, your boys were telling stories about your arthritis again." He spoke with the typical Khajiit accent, low in back of the throat.
Niyya was about to make a retort when a bottle was tossed her way. Green, corked, and with a label that bore her name. "I told you, you didn't need to make me potions anymore -- I picked up some healing magic."
"Healing magic won't work quite so well at three in the morning on a Sunday when you're woken up by blinding pain in your legs." Farri flicked his tail dismissively, and continued to rack potion bottles.
"Sundas, not Sunday, Farri." Not even five minutes into a conversation, and he was already letting his less than sane aspects show. She'd known him for years, and he still didn't know the days of the week reliably.
She sighed, and pocketed the potion. A bit of insurance would be fine, she supposed. "I wanted to congratulate you on your release. You're a free man, again."
Farri finished putting potions away, and discarded the basket. "Khajiit thanks you, he hopes to see you in Raven Rock sometime." He rolled up his sleeves to show the magic bracers still on his arms. "This one is looking forward to being able to wash his arms again. Last time was when he outgrew old bracers -- so much matted fur."
Niyya had to realize, in that moment, that Farri was going to be gone from the mine. The new alchemist likely wouldn't waste mine resources on potions for her arthritis, or to restock on healing brews during the shift change.
She'd been the on-site shift lead when Farri had been brought in as prison labor, twelve years prior. One of ten Khajiit, and the youngest of the bunch at just seven years old. Every other person from that group had been killed or transfered to different prison labor sites -- only Farri had remained.
She and Dravynea had looked out for him as best they could -- but he would leave the mine soon, never to come back. Unless, of course, House Redoran arrested him again.
"You're looking dopey, Niyya. Hit your head on a rock when you came in?" Farri responded to Niyya's silent smiling with concern, and circled her to examine her head. "Hmm, no visible bruising."
She cuffed him around the ears when he passed by her arm. "You little shit, I'm happy you're getting out. And you're not going to see me at Raven Rock, because you're getting on a ship for Skyrim first thing, alright?"
"Skyrim's just as full of racists as Morrowind, and it's a warzone. Why would Khajiit go there?" He paused and glanced aside. "Well, seeing dragons in real life would be nice, but… eh."
Niyya let the comment about long-gone dragons being in Skyrim slide. Farri was just like that sometimes. "Nu-uh, no arguing. Skyrim doesn't just enslave people to work for them like the dark elves do."
Farri looked up at her with his hands on his hips. "Cidhna Mine."
Shit that was good rebuttal, she realized. "Alright, well… don't go to the Reach? You're smart, maybe you could go to Winterhold and learn magic?"
The whistle for the start of mining was blown from deeper into the mine -- which meant Niyya had to get ready for hours of digging up orichalcum, gold, and gemstones. Already, the trudging of her crew echoed down the halls.
"Damn, well -- if you get released before the shift ends…." Niyya crouched down to hug the young cat. "Try to get somewhere they won't just throw you back in here?"
The cat-man returned the hug, though not as tightly. "This one has warning for you, if he does not see you again. You see a dark elf woman in Telvanni robes? Pull the stone out of her chest." He gave her a pat on the back, and quickly trotted off.
Niyya was frozen there as she parsed what she'd heard. "That boy is going to say something insane and get thrown in an asylum," she muttered to herself as she left the storeroom for work.
A shift of work was hard, but boring. No new shafts had been opened up in the last month, so her miners were hard at work expanding the ore veins already found, however two new veins of sapphire near the gold ore had been found out. As expected, the lunch of the day was ash yam and horker stew. Fine fair, for miners.
At the end of the day's work, they had buckets full of gemstones and the beginnings of a decent orichalcum shipment. Raven Rock might bemoan their lack of ebony ore, but there was still plenty of mineral wealth on Solstheim for them to avail themselves of. If they'd only just stop their self-pity.
Niyya fully expected to find Farri had left during her shift, instead she found him on the stairs toward the entrance, following after someone. It was too far away for her to make out details, but she heard shouting. Her miners noticed her staring and followed her gaze.
"I get the feeling Renden has done something powerfully stupid," she told her crew as they looked to her for guidance. "Don't put your picks in lockup just yet. We might need to teach him a lesson."
Fire danced along Niyya's fingers as she made her way over to the scene. By the time she had arrived, they'd already gone up past the gemstone polisher toward the second floor.
"...Khajiit is free, he served his sentence!" Farri shouted, hoarse from the sound of things. Perhaps the shouting had gone on a while, and Niyya hadn't heard due to the picks on stone.
"Your sentence is for another four hours," the oily voice of the mine's owner replied, followed by clinking chains. "Which is why I was so happy to find a buyer for your remaining time. Don't keep the hunter waiting, prisoner."
Niyya caught up to them in time to see Farri with his ears back and tail puffed up, led by the sweaty oaf who owned the mine. Renden Howei, a man who legitimately preferred to live underground at all times and interact with people as little as possible.
The Dunmer mineral mogul pulled Farri along by a magical effect from a key in his hand which created spectral chains to the cat's bracers toward the entrance to the mine.
"Renden, hold, what's this?" Niyya spoke loud, as she expected her miners to have crept up to the bottom of the stairs. They would hear her, and know if someone needed to meet the business end of a pickaxe. "My miners finish up their shift and they hear shouting -- gets them nervous."
Renden didn't turn to address her, he never liked to look them in the eye. "Nothing you need concern yourself with, just getting a last squeeze of profit out of this fuzzy lump." He had virtually no problem pulling Farri up the stairs. "Just go have dinner -- the new alchemist will be here in a week, you'll forget this lump was ever here."
"Renden, wait -- "
But Niyya's words fell on deaf ears as she followed them up the stairs to the ground floor. At the door was a man, a Nord. Taller and paler than Niyya, well-built, clad in furs. A Skaal, perhaps, though he lacked the beard typical in their men. His eyes unnerved Niyya -- they were silver-grey, almost as if he was blind.
Perhaps he was from the Nordic mead hall Thirsk, to the north.
"No, no, no!" Farri planted his feet and tried to resist the pull of Reden's magical chains at the top of the stairs. "This one is not ready to be ill met by moonlight! He does not want to speak to Hircine!"
Niyya pinched the bridge of her nose and walked around to speak to the man. "Look, I think there's been a miscommunication."
"Aye," the man said with a nod. He seemed to pay little heed to the Khajiit and Dunmer as they fought on either end of the chains. "Name's Sinding -- I just need a witness for a religious ceremony up north. Then your friend can go. It'll be cold, and boring, but that's about it."
"Lies," Farri hissed through clenched teeth. He promptly bit the bannister on the stairs when his feet were pulled up off the stairs. "Lyffff!"
"How are you this strong?!" Renden had to pull with both hands to make any progress with Farri. "You're already paid for, just give up!"
Niyya took stock of what the man had said, his bearing, and Farri's reaction. With how… odd the cat was, it was never a surefire bet to say he was being overdramatic. Farri had been the one to find out keeping gemstones too close to albino spiders had negative side effects, so his madness had something to guide it.
"Alright… could you, perhaps, put a word in with a captain at the Raven Rock docks for him?" Niyya tried to ignore the fight behind her, really she did. She stepped out of reach when Renden tried to grab her for help. "Just… something to get him away from Morrowind, so this doesn't happen again?"
Sinding looked at her with a tilted head, as if he were a confused dog, then glanced at the cat. Without a word, he nodded.
"And if this is some elaborate ruse? And he doesn't show up to Raven Rock at all? You'd better stay far away from Solstheim." Niyya held her hand up and showed the fire that danced betwixt her fingers. A clear threat.
"I'll bear that in mind," Sinding said with a dry tone. He didn't so much as blink at her, further evidence to her that he was actually blind. "Can we go, now?"
Niyya didn't have any gut feelings that warned her of danger, she was a miner -- her instincts were to listen for shifting stone. Given the man's word, and Renden's insistence, she felt the matter settled.
"Farri," she said as she turned to him.
The cat and Dunmer stopped their tug of war.
"Cut it out before you lose a tooth."
Farri released the bannister and promptly hit the ground.
"You've got less than four hours now for your time, then you're free. So just… go along with what this young man asks, alright?" She didn't like how Farri flinched every time he so much as glanced at Sinding, but he'd been indoors for twelve years -- most of his life.
Perhaps his ferocity was simply cold feet at leaving 'home', as odd as that home was?
"Khajiit doesn't like werewolves," Farri muttered. "Less so werewolves with no control."
"Now that's just rude." Niyya put her hands on her hips. "He's been polite so far, don't have to go insulting him like that." She waved her hand. "Just… use a Courage spell on yourself, alright? That should help settle your nerves."
Farri did, and was covered in a layer of green magic for a moment as the spell dispelled his fears by force. Unfortunately, absent fear the cat just became more defiant.
"He will kill this one!" Farri snapped as Renden pulled him by the mystic chains. "And Khajiit will haunt you all! Forever and always!"
"Hopefully he'll quiet down once the ceremony starts," Sinding muttered and accepted the key. "No harm will come to him, I swear." He met Niyya's eyes and thumped his chest. "On my honor as a Nord."
Nords were serious about honor, almost as much as Redguards, so Niyya believed him.
She watched Farri dragged off into the ash, and tried to convince herself it was the best way things could've gone. He'd have someone to help him get out of Morrowind, and he wouldn't be under Renden's thumb for his last few hours as a prisoner.
"Wait, damnit," Renden muttered after the Nord and Khajiit had left. "That cat was wearing a perfectly good mining uniform. Could've saved some silver by re-using it. Oh well."
Niyya nodded to play like she agreed with him. Internally, she concluded the less time nearing freedom Farri had spent around the likes of Renden, the better.
--
En route to Altar of Thrond
Sinding
The cat, Farri, was the smartest one in that mine. But with only the ash outside to use to resist, Sinding had no problem hauling him along.
"I'm guessing you can smell the wolfblood in me?" He asked, his tone conversational, as he kept his eyes on due north. The Altar, where it would finally be over. A sacrifice of flesh, and innocence, and his horrible ordeal would be over. "See it in my eyes?"
"Khajiit knows! Khajiit knows Sinding is a coward, Sinding looks for shortcuts!" The cat bit at the chains which dragged him to Sinding's pace. Alas, their spectral nature meant Khajiit teeth couldn't carve through them.
"True on all counts." Sinding admitted. "I didn't choose to be this way, you know." Sinding kept his focus on the Altar. "Just like you're not going to choose this. I'll try to make it painless, when it happens. If you don't struggle, it'll be over before you know it."
"Liar!" The cat's voice, hoarse from arguing with the Dunmer prior, finally cracked. He planted his feet and let Sinding drag him until he created a deep trough in the ash. Once the cat was deep enough to get to his ribs, the weight of the ash stopped Sinding short.
He stumbled at the sudden resistance, and it was enough to pull the key free from his grip. The beastblood hammered in his ears as he realized he'd lost the key, and turned to see the cat try to dig himself out.
Farri tried to bury the key with the ash to free himself, but found it fruitless as Sinding suddenly grabbed him by the throat and harshly yanked him up.
Sinding's body hair had grown visibly thicker, his ears had developed mild points, and his musculature developed significant definition. It was all rather old hat to Sinding, but the cat probably hadn't seen a partial transformation up close.
The beast inside howled for blood and meat. It strongly desired to have the heart it could hear beating in the Khajiit's chest. The fingers that lifted Farri by the neck developed points just sharp enough to break the skin.
Sinding beat the beast back with the fact that he needed the Khajiit alive for the ceremony. The hagravens had been firm -- the innocent had to be alive when brought to them. He released the grip he had on the cat's neck then raised his fists to bring them down on Farri's shoulders once the cat hit the ground.
Crack.
"Two broken shoulders should make it harder for you to pull something like that again," Sinding growled as his beast blood abated, and the cat screamed from the pain.
Farri's arms hung limp as Sinding bent over to fish the key out of the ash. His arms may have been out of commission, but the cat was not out of fight.
Sinding had only just laid eyes on the key when saw movement out of his peripheral vision. A second later, and his face was rudely introduced to Farri's knee. It struck with low force, enough to surprise him but not deal meaningful damage.
However, Farri succeeded in knocking Sinding over, where he exploited a weakness all men possessed with his foot. Repeatedly. That dealt some damage.
Sinding was curled in a ball trying to will the pain away as he heard footsteps in the ash grow faint. The beast blood woke again, and Sinding's anger was such that he didn't fight it.
He wasn't conscious for much of what the beast did, he just kept enough control to not kill or infect the cat -- they needed him alive and whole. He caught glimpses of terrible clawed hands that had once been his, he heard snippets of a roaring voice which had once been his, and he felt motes of delight at the pain of his 'prey'.
When he came too, the cat was a bloody mess on the ground, but more or less in one piece. Part of an ear had been bitten off, and a deep slash cut through where one of his eyes had been. Deep cuts covered his limbs, face, and torso. The cat was mauled, but alive.
Sinding's transformation into the beast within had robbed him of dignity and patience, he crouched down and yanked the cat to a sitting position by the collar of his shredded shirt. "Learned your lesson, cat?"
Sinding hoped Farri had. Already he'd have to make the unpleasant walk through the ash and snow starkers -- his armor was in pieces further up the hill. And the cat wasn't a fighter -- he probably couldn't endure much more punishment.
Farri responded by wheezing for a few seconds, closed his mouth like he struggled to swallow, and hocked bloody spittle in Sinding's face.
A few kicks to the cat's ribs seemed to beat the last of the fight out of him.
"For what it's worth," Sinding muttered as he hauled the cat up to the Altar of Thrond over his shoulders. "I respect that level of spite."
"For what it's worth," Farri wheezed around bloodloss and bruised ribs, "your skin makes good armor once Hircine's got ahold of it."
That was almost ominous enough to make Sinding pause. But no, he'd given an inch with the cat and lost his clothes for it.
The Altar of Thrond was on the opposite side of the Mosering Pass from Mount Mosering -- Sinding didn't know if the mountains the Altar stood near had names. It wouldn't matter for much longer. It was an open-air altar, near icy caves where the hagravens lived.
The hagravens once had been mortal witches -- but long years of profane magic and wicked deeds had twisted them into half-crone half-bird monstrosities. They had the talons and feet of birds, but the shape and heads of bent old women. Yet they all moved like birds -- with unnatural speed for their hunched frames.
There were three of them in the coven Sinding had sought out to cure himself of the beast blood, they formed a huddle near the altar as they waited for Sinding to arrive.
Once he did, they turned to him with wicked smirks and low laughter.
"The innocent didn't go quietly, I see," the eldest of the trio, Ettiene, rumbled with a conspicuous glance downward from Sinding's face. Her sisters cackled wildly at the comment. "Drop it, before it dies of the wounds you gave it. We will work our magics, and you will prepare yourself for the Rite."
Sinding unslung the cat from his shoulder, and passed him to the hagravens. He didn't stay outside to see what they did to him, but went into the icy caves where the hagravens lived to retrieve a change of clothes and his weapons.
The next part of the Rite would get bloody.
The hagravens had lost their cheer when Sinding returned to the Altar with a new set of fur armor and his hunting axe. One had scratch marks on her nose, and the other teeth marks on her skull. The third had a shiner in the beginnings of development.
Farri was laid out on the altar, insensate, stripped bare but with his injuries lessened significantly. The eye and ear were still in a bad way, but his myriad slashes had scarred over, his shoulders were in their proper alignment again, and the slave bracers had been removed.
"The innocent didn't go quietly, I see," Sinding returned Ettiene's words to her as he conspicuously glanced at her soon-to-be black eye.
The hagravens grumbled, but didn't comment further.
"You said the old way of doing the ritual was impossible." Sinding glanced at the cat. "So what's the new way?"
"Without wolfsbane or belladona, and with Spriggans being so badly burned on the south of the island, alterations have been made." Ettiene motioned for one of her sisters to retrieve something from the altar. A crude stone basin soon found its way to her claws, filled with an assortment of vile things.
"Eye of the innocent, which has seen the beast," the hagraven muttered as she prodded a ruined eyeball. "You made it easy to pick which one, we would have argued otherwise."
"I'm so glad I didn't inconvenience you," Sinding responded as dry as a desert.
"It is appreciated." Her talons moved to the next object. "Nightshade and deathbell petals. Fragments of a black soul gem." The wicked crone turned her gaze on Sinding with a cruel smile. "And the most important ingredient. The innocent's heart."
Sinding glanced at the mauled cat on the the altar, or rather, where the cat had been. While they had been distracted, the cat had crawled away -- and begun to roll down the slope away from them. A faint glow of green illusion magic rolled across his flesh.
"Give me a second," Sinding growled and ran through the deep snow after the cat. Were their situations reversed, he hoped he would cling to life as desperately as that Khajiit did. But with freedom from the beast blood within reach at last, he wasn't about to suffer delays forever.
"Cold, cold, cold, cold," the Khajiit chanted as he rolled -- a side effect of nudity in the mountainous region of Solstheim, even when one didn't roll through snow to escape hagravens.
Sinding caught up to him, barely in control of the beast within, and put an end to his rolling with one hand on the cat's neck. With grit teeth and a desperate need to stop any more delays, Sinding met the cat's one last eye.
With a bit of power from the beast within, he plunged his free hand into the cat's chest, broke his ribs, and physically tore the Khajiit's heart out. Sinding wouldn't miss much about being a werewolf -- but the raw power was downright addictive. As he held the heart in one hand, and a dying young man in the other, he knew he had to get rid of the power that day.
If he kept it, the beast would wear down his disgust and worm its way into his mind.
He kept his lock on the cat's eye as the light faded, as the jaw went slack and the body lost hold of itself. The cat had fought against his end as best as he was able, that deserved acknowledgement.
Back up the slope Sinding climbed, heart and cadaver carried with him. Something told him that the hagravens would need the corpse as well.
"Well done, hunter," Ettiene mockingly praised. "You use the Lord Hircine's gift well." She held the bowl out for him to place Farri's heart within.
"Get this over and done with," Sinding muttered and laid the heartless Khajiit on the altar again. He did so gently, as he believed the cat had suffered enough indignity. Farri's heart was laid into the bowl with the other ingredients.
"Isobel, wine," snapped Ettiene. As her sister poured wine into the bowl. "Fallaisse, the salts."
The last hagraven emptied black, orange, and icy white powders into the brew. Once enough wine was poured into the bowl for Farri's heart to be completely covered, they began to chant.
Wicked, evil words they chanted as part of their unholy spell. The surface of the wine sparked like lightning, then caught fire for only a few moments before it let out a crackling noise.
"There now." Ettiene grinned with needle teeth and held the bowl out to Sinding. "Take the heart, and place it back into the innocent's chest."
Sinding looked at the brew. The wine and other ingredients had frozen solid as part of the spell, and the heart was lodged in the middle. He had to use his fingers to break the heart free from the wine before he could remove it from the bowl. It looked far redder than when the ritual had started, as well as smaller. As he took it, Farri's ruined eye seemed to glare at him, half collapsed and frozen in wine.
Tearing out a heart had been easy, but putting it back in was harder. Sinding kept his hand in Farri's chest during the process to make sure he had the blood vessels properly lined up. Farri's body had only just started to go cold when Sinding pulled his hand out the second time.
"Now, supplicant," Ettiene muttered as shet set down the bowl on the altar. "This is where it gets tricky. We have taken bits and pieces from other spells to achieve the same end we could with the old Rite, but there is no guarantee it will work from here."
Sinding's eyes widened and his hand snapped down to his axe. "No guarantees…? But you said -- "
"We said we would attempt to make it work as before." Ettiene smiled and wagged a talon while her sisters cackled. "No promises were made."
Sinding ground his teeth and fought the beast's urge to emerge for vengeance. The Rite hadn't failed yet, so there was hope.
"Get on with it, then," he growled. His hand never left his axe -- though he and the hagravens knew it wasn't the axe that would kill them if he became violent.
--
The Void
'To die in the world of time was to be asleep', the Prophet Vivec had said though I had never heard him say it.
All that he needed to do to live again was to wake up, though I had never killed him.
'Time is an illusion', the Madgod, my friend, had said to me once before his time was done. 'A theory based on the idea that events occur in a linear order. Always forward, never back.'
'Distance is an illusion', I had told myself and others, in another ocean. 'A theory based on the idea that the universe can truly be separated from itself.'
'He was not born a god', the thirty-six documents said with one voice, about the Prophet Vivec. But I knew it to be false. He had, and had not been, born a god. The Prophet had wished for both to be true -- for two to become one. The contradiction did not frighten him as it did others.
'I was not born a Khajiit', I told myself with hundreds of voices. But it was false. I had been born a man in a world without magic, I had been born as the eternally deep ocean, I had been born as a being of viral information, I had been born dozens of times as stillborn creatures. And I had been born a Khajiit. All these things were true, but I had not accepted the contradiction before.
Someone mighty with grahthorns and red eyes lustful for a hunt reached out for my heart. They wanted to chase, and to be chased; to be amongst a pack, and to be alone against their enemies. Beautiful contradictions.
But more than those things, more than their beautiful contradictions, they wanted my heart. For only a moment, it was their entire focus.
It was not my nature to let my heart be taken. I could give it, it could be stolen, or it could be seduced. But I would not lay back and let it be taken.
Fang met the hand that reached for my heart in the Void. Blood that tasted of glory and moonlight flowed down into me, followed thereafter by flesh of strength and conquest, then bones of victory and proclamation.
A hand had reached for me, a bloody stump withdrew.
The mighty one with grahthorns and red eyes was delighted.
--
The Altar of Thrond
Sinding
The hagravens worked their spells, and the flesh around Farri's heart began to mend. A knotted scar formed, where the wound had been. That left only the missing eye and damaged ear as unhealed injuries on the cadaver.
Sinding expected something to happen -- Ettiene had described the last stage of the Rite as the innocent's body being morphed into his beast within, that Sinding could kill it and be free of the curse.
Sinding watched the corpse and expected it to move, at any moment. He watched patiently as moments became minutes. He watched patiently as he gripped his hands so hard the joints popped one by one.
"Your spell didn't work," Sinding growled and turned to face the hagravens.
They seemed terribly confused, and murmured to each other about what had gone wrong. "I don't understand -- we knotted the soul thread appropriately." "The words to restore a life have not changed -- have they?" "Were all those soul gem fragments of the same black gem? We didn't get a lesser soul gem mixed in with them?"
It was clear they hadn't any answers for him. The beast howled in his ears for their blood -- it didn't care that it had almost been cast out, it wanted to kill something. Sinding did too. But as the beast slipped into his blood, his ears became keen.
Keen enough to hear a heartbeat.
His eyes snapped to the cat's corpse. Or rather, a cat playing like a corpse. The beast within sharpened his eyes enough to catch minute shifts in Farri's chest.
"It worked," he muttered. He didn't spare the hagravens a glance, lest Farri escape again. "He's alive."
Ettiene swiped her claw in Sinding's direction. "Foolish Breton --
"I'm a Nord."
" -- the spell was a failure. Accept this. Had it worked, a ravenous beast would have risen, with a piece of your lycanthropy for you to kill. No, no," she waved her arm about. "We'll need to think of something else. Perhaps Krev's method?"
"I tell you -- the cat is alive!" Sinding turned from Farri to glare at the hagravens. "What's the next step of the Rite?!"
"There is no next step," Ettiene snapped back and pointed at him. "If the innocent was alive, the beast blood mixture would send them after you instinctually. They would attack you and you would… you would…." She had turned to gesture at the altar, then looked around in confusion. "Where did it go?"
Sinding felt like pinching the bridge of his nose so hard it would become powder. Slowly, he turned to look at the altar. Sure enough, Farri was gone.
There were no indentations in the snow beyond where Farri had escaped the first time -- so Sinding had no idea where he'd gone. Perhaps the damn cat had found a way to fly.
He wanted to get so angry, his freedom from the curse had been teased and yanked away multiple times throughout the whole ordeal.
"Corpses don't get up and walk away! Where did the innocent go?!" The hagravens stood on the altar and looked down its sides, eager to find the tracks. "Tracks on the eastern side…."
Sinding joined them on the altar, and let the beast within heighten his senses again. He could hear the cat's heartbeat, but lacked the werewolf's ears to pinpoint it. He had to turn his head from side to side to locate it.
The heartbeat was right behind them.
Sinding felt the beast within lose its anger suddenly, replaced by fear and an urge to run. He turned, and saw bloody prints in the snow that walked along the edge of the altar until they came to Farri's feet.
He stood behind them, his lonely eye looking at them with hate. There was something slightly off about that eye -- like it was deeper than before. The cat flipped Sinding the bird, and took a deep breath.
The beast within whined at Sinding to run, to find shelter, anything, but Sinding did nothing. Whatever Farri was about to do, it had convinced Sinding's werewolf that the predator had become prey.
Sinding respected that. "Clever cat," he muttered.
"Ven… Gaar Nos!"
A mighty wind struck Sinding, the hagravens, and the altar they stood on. The stone altar was torn from the ground, as were other stones, as the wind swirled around them in a spiral pattern. Whatever Farri had done beckoned a cyclone to form that carried them and everything it could lift with it.
The hagravens screamed as they whirled down the slopes, lost in stone and snow that mixed with ash as they traveled.
Sinding was silent as the mountains became distant. He didn't utter so much as a sound until the cyclone hit the sea and broke. Momentum carried them a ways before the water rushed up to meet them.
---
Chair grew up in the midwest. He knows very well the power of a cyclone -- no dragon souls needed for the Thu'um.
This one will be telling the story from outside perspective, again. It seems to be the best way to keep the rest of the cast engaged. Chair wants everyone to know, biting the hands off Daedric Princes doesn't always end well. But when it does, oh ho ho ho, is it fun to play with.
Chair is playing the part of Farri, a Dagi Khajiit from Morrowind. His family comes from former slave stock, back in the Third Era. Morrowind is still a nasty place for Khajiit, since the Dunmer have adopted the American model for keeping their slaves. Farri was arrested at the hardened criminal age of seven, and made to serve a twelve year forced labor sentence.
He was accused of stealing from a House Redoran noblewoman.
If anyone is curious Farri before being killed is very similar to how Noburu was before killing his friend in Snapping Turtle, or Ketojan before losing his head. Death and being near death snaps them into being aware of the oversoul, yes?
This one hopes you like the story, and what will come of it. Much chaos laddering has to happen.
Summary: Being too clever can create problems for you. Especially when the world sees cleverness as a tool to be used, and clever people much the same. Farri, a Khajiiti prisoner from House Redoran, has found this out the hard way.
Author's Note: Alright, alright. Another Skyrim story. Not a reboot of Skooma Cat, tried that, didn't work, leave the past where it is. We're going to be having some fun. Some empire smashing, maybe some building. A bit of yucks, a bit of violence, and delicious burning of the stations of the canon. Mehrunes Dagon ain't got shit on me!
---
Chapter One: Chain Yanking
Highpoint Tower Mine
Shift Lead Niyya
She trudged through grey-brown ash banks, leader of a line of miners all dressed as she was. Slick clothes that wouldn't catch the ash as it fell, no area of skin exposed lest the ash get in and poison their lungs.
Their packs, complete with picks and everything they would need for their month-long shift at the mine, were covered much the same. Every four miners had a guardian walk at their flank, to keep them safe in the event of reavers.
Niyya led the group because she had the most mining experience, she had been a miner for forty-nine years and a shift lead for twenty-one of them. She knew magic to keep a mine from collapsing and she knew how to fight off bandits -- or reavers, as they called themselves in Morrowind -- on her own.
She also knew illusion magic, enough to calm or inspire bravery, and one particular spell the Highpoint Tower Mine valued more than anything. Clairvoyance -- a spell to find where you wanted to go, or what you wanted to find. Caved in? Find a way around it. Prospecting ore? Led right to a vein.
Farri, a long-time fixture of their mine, had taught it to her. He'd apparently seen the spell work but didn't know the fundamentals of illusion magic. Once Niyya taught those to him, he paid her back with Clairvoyance.
In the immediate, the spell helped her find her damned way to the mine through all the ashfall and changed terrain. Every month the near-constant ashfall would create dunes as it met the wind and frozen soil, and the landscape had a tendency to radically change.
She held her hand aloft, and a path of light only she could see stretched out before her toward a dark blob high on the slopes they climbed. She released the magic, pointed where it had showed her, and led them toward the mine. Most of the journey was done in silence, to reduce the chance of ash in the lungs.
On the edge of a valley, surrounded by dead broken pines was a dead broken Imperial fort. Broken pieces of the fort lay scattered around them, with the only remnants being the namesake Highpoint Tower, and part of an old curtain wall. It shielded the mine's entrance from the ashfall, at least.
Niyya broke the line and stood at the edge of a stonework tunnel next to a long-dead tree. She helped the miners behind her get in the tunnel speedily, while the guards joined her around the entrance. They would remain outside until the departing shift and minerals were on the move, then escort them back to town.
Once all the miners in her shift had been brought into the mine, Niyya followed after them. In the antechamber of the wrecked tower, her miners were already stripping off their ash-repellant gear as the departing shift donned theirs.
"How's the weather out there, Niyya?" The departing shift lead, a blue-skined, red-eyed dark elf Dravynea asked as she made sure her boots were on proper.
"Good and sunny," Niyya lied as easily as breathing, once she had her helmet off. Niyya was Redguard while Dravynea a Dunmer, taller and more visibly aged than the departing shift lead. "You might catch a tan if you stay out enough." As she undid her ash-repellant gear, she got to breathing the good mine air and her mood improved. "Ash is thick -- be prepared to use magic to find your way back."
"Same as always." Dravynea shook her head and hauled her pack up. "We got the new cook this month, replacing Farri. She's alright, but afraid to take risks. Excellent with eggs. The new Alchemist hasn't arrived yet."
"As long as I have fewer men breathing fire from both ends, I'll be happy with her." Niyya shuddered at the memories. Men always wanted to be manly and demand the food be made with the most fire salt they could manage -- and they always regretted it mid-shift. "Farri leaving with you? I want to say goodbye."
Dravynea's face soured and she tightened the straps on her pack too much. "I expected him to, but Renden said someone's coming to pick him up." There was an edge in her voice, her blood-red eyes were narrowed, she glanced over her shoulder down the stairs with a snear. "My gut says that fetcher is plotting something."
"I'll try keep him from doing anything powerfully stupid." Niyya crossed her arms and glanced in that same direction. "But I'm not a Dunmer, he has more leeway with me than you."
"If you can, send word with the food deliveries. The haul was mostly gems this month, those'll go fast. I can be back up here with some of my boys, a few torches, maybe even a pitchfork for tradition's sake." Dravynea put on her helmet, and nodded to Niyya as she walked toward the door.
Niyya's crew had already gone downstairs, following the smell of spice and sugar in the air. She followed after them, after she folded her gear up in an old storage room in the antechamber.
Niyya had been in plenty of mines through the decades, but Highpoint Tower was the first mine where the best air was underground. It was a gem-and-ore mine on Solstheim, an island far in the frozen north of Tamriel, in the middle of the ash wastes.
The air outside was constantly full of ash from volcanic eruptions out in Morrowind proper, but the inside was kept clean. Magic, alchemy, and odd Morrowind animals were responsible.
On the first level, below the antechamber, there was a landing where a brazier burned green fire. A Dunmer sat nearby, with a stack of plants wrapped in white cloths for feeding the fire -- an alchemical way to clean the air as folks checked in -- and a board and quil in his hands.
Niyya checked in with him, and continued down. Past the next level, where the gems recovered would be polished and put in a safe, and down to the mine proper. The gemstones were closest to the surface, so they had been found first.
Queer white spiders, native to Morrowind, had been brought in to spin their webs along the mine's walls for cave-in resistance. Niyya didn't mind them, they were smaller than dogs which made them better than Skyrim's spiders.
Farri had been the one to put together the right herbs to burn for the clean air, and who had figured how to tame the spiders. With a bit of help from a long-gone miner who had been a seamstress, Farri had figured how to make their ash-repellant gear from the spider's silk.
Deeper into the mine were the ore veins, where the old Imperial cellars met Nordic ruins. This resulted in enough space for the miners to live their month-long shifts underground without much madness.
In a section of the Nordic ruins wing of the mine was the alchemy lab and kitchens. Niyya went there to check in on the mine's long-term staff.
The new cook, a young smooth-skin Dunmer girl, waved at Niyya as she stirred a pot over a fire. It smelled like horker and ash yam stew, always good to get miners through a shift. She had thick metal bracers on her forearms which looked new.
Niyya's heart sank to see them. Old slave bracers repurposed to be used for prisoners once slavery had become illegal -- except as punishment for a crime. "Well met," Niyya said with some forced cheer. She smiled and made sure she met the new cook's eyes -- if she treated her like an equal, the girl would remember freedom longer.
Niyya hated that she'd worked with so many prisoner-slaves in Morrowind to know that.
"And same to you, serjo," the girl introduced herself. "I'm Farwesu, I'll be taking over Farri's duties once he's released."
"So I hear. I'm Niyya, the shift lead. Any of my miners give you trouble, you raise your voice and I'll come running. Dravynea said you're good with eggs?"
"Yes!" The girl, likely too young for marriage in the weird elven notion of such things, visibly brightened at the topic. "I'm really good with kwama eggs, but I'm told there's no kwama mines on Solstheim. But I was studying Breton cooking, and they use lots of bird and fish eggs."
"Well, as long as you can stand up to my crew on how much spice they get in their meals, I'll be happy."
Farwesu's ears lowered slightly, an odd thing elves and Khajiit could do. "Ah. Yes. That's… been somewhat of a consistent topic." She glanced over her shoulder, then lowered her voice. "Is… Farri liberal with the fire and void salts?"
Years of memories, full of boisterous young folk who ate their meals with competing amounts of fire salt, played out before Niyya's eyes. Farri actively did not care if a miner wanted their serving spiced well beyond their tolerance -- he'd do it. It would make him and the other miners laugh when the poor fetcher went running to the latrine, and she'd get yelled at for low productivity.
"Yes," was all she said on the subject, however. "Have you seen him, actually?"
Farwesu pointed Niyya into the next room in the ruin, where potions and booze were kept for storage.
Therein, she found the cat of the hour. A Khajiit, one of the cat-men of Elsweyr, though Niyya doubted Farri had ever been out of Morrowind. A child of slaves brought to the dark elf nation generations ago. Khajiit came in many sizes, and Farri was one of the shortest -- at two-thirds Niyya's height.
The cat had his back to her, putting small bottles out of a basket and into a refitted wine rack next to the alcohol casks. An ear flicked back toward her as he worked. "Good to see you didn't break a hip in the bath, your boys were telling stories about your arthritis again." He spoke with the typical Khajiit accent, low in back of the throat.
Niyya was about to make a retort when a bottle was tossed her way. Green, corked, and with a label that bore her name. "I told you, you didn't need to make me potions anymore -- I picked up some healing magic."
"Healing magic won't work quite so well at three in the morning on a Sunday when you're woken up by blinding pain in your legs." Farri flicked his tail dismissively, and continued to rack potion bottles.
"Sundas, not Sunday, Farri." Not even five minutes into a conversation, and he was already letting his less than sane aspects show. She'd known him for years, and he still didn't know the days of the week reliably.
She sighed, and pocketed the potion. A bit of insurance would be fine, she supposed. "I wanted to congratulate you on your release. You're a free man, again."
Farri finished putting potions away, and discarded the basket. "Khajiit thanks you, he hopes to see you in Raven Rock sometime." He rolled up his sleeves to show the magic bracers still on his arms. "This one is looking forward to being able to wash his arms again. Last time was when he outgrew old bracers -- so much matted fur."
Niyya had to realize, in that moment, that Farri was going to be gone from the mine. The new alchemist likely wouldn't waste mine resources on potions for her arthritis, or to restock on healing brews during the shift change.
She'd been the on-site shift lead when Farri had been brought in as prison labor, twelve years prior. One of ten Khajiit, and the youngest of the bunch at just seven years old. Every other person from that group had been killed or transfered to different prison labor sites -- only Farri had remained.
She and Dravynea had looked out for him as best they could -- but he would leave the mine soon, never to come back. Unless, of course, House Redoran arrested him again.
"You're looking dopey, Niyya. Hit your head on a rock when you came in?" Farri responded to Niyya's silent smiling with concern, and circled her to examine her head. "Hmm, no visible bruising."
She cuffed him around the ears when he passed by her arm. "You little shit, I'm happy you're getting out. And you're not going to see me at Raven Rock, because you're getting on a ship for Skyrim first thing, alright?"
"Skyrim's just as full of racists as Morrowind, and it's a warzone. Why would Khajiit go there?" He paused and glanced aside. "Well, seeing dragons in real life would be nice, but… eh."
Niyya let the comment about long-gone dragons being in Skyrim slide. Farri was just like that sometimes. "Nu-uh, no arguing. Skyrim doesn't just enslave people to work for them like the dark elves do."
Farri looked up at her with his hands on his hips. "Cidhna Mine."
Shit that was good rebuttal, she realized. "Alright, well… don't go to the Reach? You're smart, maybe you could go to Winterhold and learn magic?"
The whistle for the start of mining was blown from deeper into the mine -- which meant Niyya had to get ready for hours of digging up orichalcum, gold, and gemstones. Already, the trudging of her crew echoed down the halls.
"Damn, well -- if you get released before the shift ends…." Niyya crouched down to hug the young cat. "Try to get somewhere they won't just throw you back in here?"
The cat-man returned the hug, though not as tightly. "This one has warning for you, if he does not see you again. You see a dark elf woman in Telvanni robes? Pull the stone out of her chest." He gave her a pat on the back, and quickly trotted off.
Niyya was frozen there as she parsed what she'd heard. "That boy is going to say something insane and get thrown in an asylum," she muttered to herself as she left the storeroom for work.
A shift of work was hard, but boring. No new shafts had been opened up in the last month, so her miners were hard at work expanding the ore veins already found, however two new veins of sapphire near the gold ore had been found out. As expected, the lunch of the day was ash yam and horker stew. Fine fair, for miners.
At the end of the day's work, they had buckets full of gemstones and the beginnings of a decent orichalcum shipment. Raven Rock might bemoan their lack of ebony ore, but there was still plenty of mineral wealth on Solstheim for them to avail themselves of. If they'd only just stop their self-pity.
Niyya fully expected to find Farri had left during her shift, instead she found him on the stairs toward the entrance, following after someone. It was too far away for her to make out details, but she heard shouting. Her miners noticed her staring and followed her gaze.
"I get the feeling Renden has done something powerfully stupid," she told her crew as they looked to her for guidance. "Don't put your picks in lockup just yet. We might need to teach him a lesson."
Fire danced along Niyya's fingers as she made her way over to the scene. By the time she had arrived, they'd already gone up past the gemstone polisher toward the second floor.
"...Khajiit is free, he served his sentence!" Farri shouted, hoarse from the sound of things. Perhaps the shouting had gone on a while, and Niyya hadn't heard due to the picks on stone.
"Your sentence is for another four hours," the oily voice of the mine's owner replied, followed by clinking chains. "Which is why I was so happy to find a buyer for your remaining time. Don't keep the hunter waiting, prisoner."
Niyya caught up to them in time to see Farri with his ears back and tail puffed up, led by the sweaty oaf who owned the mine. Renden Howei, a man who legitimately preferred to live underground at all times and interact with people as little as possible.
The Dunmer mineral mogul pulled Farri along by a magical effect from a key in his hand which created spectral chains to the cat's bracers toward the entrance to the mine.
"Renden, hold, what's this?" Niyya spoke loud, as she expected her miners to have crept up to the bottom of the stairs. They would hear her, and know if someone needed to meet the business end of a pickaxe. "My miners finish up their shift and they hear shouting -- gets them nervous."
Renden didn't turn to address her, he never liked to look them in the eye. "Nothing you need concern yourself with, just getting a last squeeze of profit out of this fuzzy lump." He had virtually no problem pulling Farri up the stairs. "Just go have dinner -- the new alchemist will be here in a week, you'll forget this lump was ever here."
"Renden, wait -- "
But Niyya's words fell on deaf ears as she followed them up the stairs to the ground floor. At the door was a man, a Nord. Taller and paler than Niyya, well-built, clad in furs. A Skaal, perhaps, though he lacked the beard typical in their men. His eyes unnerved Niyya -- they were silver-grey, almost as if he was blind.
Perhaps he was from the Nordic mead hall Thirsk, to the north.
"No, no, no!" Farri planted his feet and tried to resist the pull of Reden's magical chains at the top of the stairs. "This one is not ready to be ill met by moonlight! He does not want to speak to Hircine!"
Niyya pinched the bridge of her nose and walked around to speak to the man. "Look, I think there's been a miscommunication."
"Aye," the man said with a nod. He seemed to pay little heed to the Khajiit and Dunmer as they fought on either end of the chains. "Name's Sinding -- I just need a witness for a religious ceremony up north. Then your friend can go. It'll be cold, and boring, but that's about it."
"Lies," Farri hissed through clenched teeth. He promptly bit the bannister on the stairs when his feet were pulled up off the stairs. "Lyffff!"
"How are you this strong?!" Renden had to pull with both hands to make any progress with Farri. "You're already paid for, just give up!"
Niyya took stock of what the man had said, his bearing, and Farri's reaction. With how… odd the cat was, it was never a surefire bet to say he was being overdramatic. Farri had been the one to find out keeping gemstones too close to albino spiders had negative side effects, so his madness had something to guide it.
"Alright… could you, perhaps, put a word in with a captain at the Raven Rock docks for him?" Niyya tried to ignore the fight behind her, really she did. She stepped out of reach when Renden tried to grab her for help. "Just… something to get him away from Morrowind, so this doesn't happen again?"
Sinding looked at her with a tilted head, as if he were a confused dog, then glanced at the cat. Without a word, he nodded.
"And if this is some elaborate ruse? And he doesn't show up to Raven Rock at all? You'd better stay far away from Solstheim." Niyya held her hand up and showed the fire that danced betwixt her fingers. A clear threat.
"I'll bear that in mind," Sinding said with a dry tone. He didn't so much as blink at her, further evidence to her that he was actually blind. "Can we go, now?"
Niyya didn't have any gut feelings that warned her of danger, she was a miner -- her instincts were to listen for shifting stone. Given the man's word, and Renden's insistence, she felt the matter settled.
"Farri," she said as she turned to him.
The cat and Dunmer stopped their tug of war.
"Cut it out before you lose a tooth."
Farri released the bannister and promptly hit the ground.
"You've got less than four hours now for your time, then you're free. So just… go along with what this young man asks, alright?" She didn't like how Farri flinched every time he so much as glanced at Sinding, but he'd been indoors for twelve years -- most of his life.
Perhaps his ferocity was simply cold feet at leaving 'home', as odd as that home was?
"Khajiit doesn't like werewolves," Farri muttered. "Less so werewolves with no control."
"Now that's just rude." Niyya put her hands on her hips. "He's been polite so far, don't have to go insulting him like that." She waved her hand. "Just… use a Courage spell on yourself, alright? That should help settle your nerves."
Farri did, and was covered in a layer of green magic for a moment as the spell dispelled his fears by force. Unfortunately, absent fear the cat just became more defiant.
"He will kill this one!" Farri snapped as Renden pulled him by the mystic chains. "And Khajiit will haunt you all! Forever and always!"
"Hopefully he'll quiet down once the ceremony starts," Sinding muttered and accepted the key. "No harm will come to him, I swear." He met Niyya's eyes and thumped his chest. "On my honor as a Nord."
Nords were serious about honor, almost as much as Redguards, so Niyya believed him.
She watched Farri dragged off into the ash, and tried to convince herself it was the best way things could've gone. He'd have someone to help him get out of Morrowind, and he wouldn't be under Renden's thumb for his last few hours as a prisoner.
"Wait, damnit," Renden muttered after the Nord and Khajiit had left. "That cat was wearing a perfectly good mining uniform. Could've saved some silver by re-using it. Oh well."
Niyya nodded to play like she agreed with him. Internally, she concluded the less time nearing freedom Farri had spent around the likes of Renden, the better.
--
En route to Altar of Thrond
Sinding
The cat, Farri, was the smartest one in that mine. But with only the ash outside to use to resist, Sinding had no problem hauling him along.
"I'm guessing you can smell the wolfblood in me?" He asked, his tone conversational, as he kept his eyes on due north. The Altar, where it would finally be over. A sacrifice of flesh, and innocence, and his horrible ordeal would be over. "See it in my eyes?"
"Khajiit knows! Khajiit knows Sinding is a coward, Sinding looks for shortcuts!" The cat bit at the chains which dragged him to Sinding's pace. Alas, their spectral nature meant Khajiit teeth couldn't carve through them.
"True on all counts." Sinding admitted. "I didn't choose to be this way, you know." Sinding kept his focus on the Altar. "Just like you're not going to choose this. I'll try to make it painless, when it happens. If you don't struggle, it'll be over before you know it."
"Liar!" The cat's voice, hoarse from arguing with the Dunmer prior, finally cracked. He planted his feet and let Sinding drag him until he created a deep trough in the ash. Once the cat was deep enough to get to his ribs, the weight of the ash stopped Sinding short.
He stumbled at the sudden resistance, and it was enough to pull the key free from his grip. The beastblood hammered in his ears as he realized he'd lost the key, and turned to see the cat try to dig himself out.
Farri tried to bury the key with the ash to free himself, but found it fruitless as Sinding suddenly grabbed him by the throat and harshly yanked him up.
Sinding's body hair had grown visibly thicker, his ears had developed mild points, and his musculature developed significant definition. It was all rather old hat to Sinding, but the cat probably hadn't seen a partial transformation up close.
The beast inside howled for blood and meat. It strongly desired to have the heart it could hear beating in the Khajiit's chest. The fingers that lifted Farri by the neck developed points just sharp enough to break the skin.
Sinding beat the beast back with the fact that he needed the Khajiit alive for the ceremony. The hagravens had been firm -- the innocent had to be alive when brought to them. He released the grip he had on the cat's neck then raised his fists to bring them down on Farri's shoulders once the cat hit the ground.
Crack.
"Two broken shoulders should make it harder for you to pull something like that again," Sinding growled as his beast blood abated, and the cat screamed from the pain.
Farri's arms hung limp as Sinding bent over to fish the key out of the ash. His arms may have been out of commission, but the cat was not out of fight.
Sinding had only just laid eyes on the key when saw movement out of his peripheral vision. A second later, and his face was rudely introduced to Farri's knee. It struck with low force, enough to surprise him but not deal meaningful damage.
However, Farri succeeded in knocking Sinding over, where he exploited a weakness all men possessed with his foot. Repeatedly. That dealt some damage.
Sinding was curled in a ball trying to will the pain away as he heard footsteps in the ash grow faint. The beast blood woke again, and Sinding's anger was such that he didn't fight it.
He wasn't conscious for much of what the beast did, he just kept enough control to not kill or infect the cat -- they needed him alive and whole. He caught glimpses of terrible clawed hands that had once been his, he heard snippets of a roaring voice which had once been his, and he felt motes of delight at the pain of his 'prey'.
When he came too, the cat was a bloody mess on the ground, but more or less in one piece. Part of an ear had been bitten off, and a deep slash cut through where one of his eyes had been. Deep cuts covered his limbs, face, and torso. The cat was mauled, but alive.
Sinding's transformation into the beast within had robbed him of dignity and patience, he crouched down and yanked the cat to a sitting position by the collar of his shredded shirt. "Learned your lesson, cat?"
Sinding hoped Farri had. Already he'd have to make the unpleasant walk through the ash and snow starkers -- his armor was in pieces further up the hill. And the cat wasn't a fighter -- he probably couldn't endure much more punishment.
Farri responded by wheezing for a few seconds, closed his mouth like he struggled to swallow, and hocked bloody spittle in Sinding's face.
A few kicks to the cat's ribs seemed to beat the last of the fight out of him.
"For what it's worth," Sinding muttered as he hauled the cat up to the Altar of Thrond over his shoulders. "I respect that level of spite."
"For what it's worth," Farri wheezed around bloodloss and bruised ribs, "your skin makes good armor once Hircine's got ahold of it."
That was almost ominous enough to make Sinding pause. But no, he'd given an inch with the cat and lost his clothes for it.
The Altar of Thrond was on the opposite side of the Mosering Pass from Mount Mosering -- Sinding didn't know if the mountains the Altar stood near had names. It wouldn't matter for much longer. It was an open-air altar, near icy caves where the hagravens lived.
The hagravens once had been mortal witches -- but long years of profane magic and wicked deeds had twisted them into half-crone half-bird monstrosities. They had the talons and feet of birds, but the shape and heads of bent old women. Yet they all moved like birds -- with unnatural speed for their hunched frames.
There were three of them in the coven Sinding had sought out to cure himself of the beast blood, they formed a huddle near the altar as they waited for Sinding to arrive.
Once he did, they turned to him with wicked smirks and low laughter.
"The innocent didn't go quietly, I see," the eldest of the trio, Ettiene, rumbled with a conspicuous glance downward from Sinding's face. Her sisters cackled wildly at the comment. "Drop it, before it dies of the wounds you gave it. We will work our magics, and you will prepare yourself for the Rite."
Sinding unslung the cat from his shoulder, and passed him to the hagravens. He didn't stay outside to see what they did to him, but went into the icy caves where the hagravens lived to retrieve a change of clothes and his weapons.
The next part of the Rite would get bloody.
The hagravens had lost their cheer when Sinding returned to the Altar with a new set of fur armor and his hunting axe. One had scratch marks on her nose, and the other teeth marks on her skull. The third had a shiner in the beginnings of development.
Farri was laid out on the altar, insensate, stripped bare but with his injuries lessened significantly. The eye and ear were still in a bad way, but his myriad slashes had scarred over, his shoulders were in their proper alignment again, and the slave bracers had been removed.
"The innocent didn't go quietly, I see," Sinding returned Ettiene's words to her as he conspicuously glanced at her soon-to-be black eye.
The hagravens grumbled, but didn't comment further.
"You said the old way of doing the ritual was impossible." Sinding glanced at the cat. "So what's the new way?"
"Without wolfsbane or belladona, and with Spriggans being so badly burned on the south of the island, alterations have been made." Ettiene motioned for one of her sisters to retrieve something from the altar. A crude stone basin soon found its way to her claws, filled with an assortment of vile things.
"Eye of the innocent, which has seen the beast," the hagraven muttered as she prodded a ruined eyeball. "You made it easy to pick which one, we would have argued otherwise."
"I'm so glad I didn't inconvenience you," Sinding responded as dry as a desert.
"It is appreciated." Her talons moved to the next object. "Nightshade and deathbell petals. Fragments of a black soul gem." The wicked crone turned her gaze on Sinding with a cruel smile. "And the most important ingredient. The innocent's heart."
Sinding glanced at the mauled cat on the the altar, or rather, where the cat had been. While they had been distracted, the cat had crawled away -- and begun to roll down the slope away from them. A faint glow of green illusion magic rolled across his flesh.
"Give me a second," Sinding growled and ran through the deep snow after the cat. Were their situations reversed, he hoped he would cling to life as desperately as that Khajiit did. But with freedom from the beast blood within reach at last, he wasn't about to suffer delays forever.
"Cold, cold, cold, cold," the Khajiit chanted as he rolled -- a side effect of nudity in the mountainous region of Solstheim, even when one didn't roll through snow to escape hagravens.
Sinding caught up to him, barely in control of the beast within, and put an end to his rolling with one hand on the cat's neck. With grit teeth and a desperate need to stop any more delays, Sinding met the cat's one last eye.
With a bit of power from the beast within, he plunged his free hand into the cat's chest, broke his ribs, and physically tore the Khajiit's heart out. Sinding wouldn't miss much about being a werewolf -- but the raw power was downright addictive. As he held the heart in one hand, and a dying young man in the other, he knew he had to get rid of the power that day.
If he kept it, the beast would wear down his disgust and worm its way into his mind.
He kept his lock on the cat's eye as the light faded, as the jaw went slack and the body lost hold of itself. The cat had fought against his end as best as he was able, that deserved acknowledgement.
Back up the slope Sinding climbed, heart and cadaver carried with him. Something told him that the hagravens would need the corpse as well.
"Well done, hunter," Ettiene mockingly praised. "You use the Lord Hircine's gift well." She held the bowl out for him to place Farri's heart within.
"Get this over and done with," Sinding muttered and laid the heartless Khajiit on the altar again. He did so gently, as he believed the cat had suffered enough indignity. Farri's heart was laid into the bowl with the other ingredients.
"Isobel, wine," snapped Ettiene. As her sister poured wine into the bowl. "Fallaisse, the salts."
The last hagraven emptied black, orange, and icy white powders into the brew. Once enough wine was poured into the bowl for Farri's heart to be completely covered, they began to chant.
Wicked, evil words they chanted as part of their unholy spell. The surface of the wine sparked like lightning, then caught fire for only a few moments before it let out a crackling noise.
"There now." Ettiene grinned with needle teeth and held the bowl out to Sinding. "Take the heart, and place it back into the innocent's chest."
Sinding looked at the brew. The wine and other ingredients had frozen solid as part of the spell, and the heart was lodged in the middle. He had to use his fingers to break the heart free from the wine before he could remove it from the bowl. It looked far redder than when the ritual had started, as well as smaller. As he took it, Farri's ruined eye seemed to glare at him, half collapsed and frozen in wine.
Tearing out a heart had been easy, but putting it back in was harder. Sinding kept his hand in Farri's chest during the process to make sure he had the blood vessels properly lined up. Farri's body had only just started to go cold when Sinding pulled his hand out the second time.
"Now, supplicant," Ettiene muttered as shet set down the bowl on the altar. "This is where it gets tricky. We have taken bits and pieces from other spells to achieve the same end we could with the old Rite, but there is no guarantee it will work from here."
Sinding's eyes widened and his hand snapped down to his axe. "No guarantees…? But you said -- "
"We said we would attempt to make it work as before." Ettiene smiled and wagged a talon while her sisters cackled. "No promises were made."
Sinding ground his teeth and fought the beast's urge to emerge for vengeance. The Rite hadn't failed yet, so there was hope.
"Get on with it, then," he growled. His hand never left his axe -- though he and the hagravens knew it wasn't the axe that would kill them if he became violent.
--
The Void
'To die in the world of time was to be asleep', the Prophet Vivec had said though I had never heard him say it.
All that he needed to do to live again was to wake up, though I had never killed him.
'Time is an illusion', the Madgod, my friend, had said to me once before his time was done. 'A theory based on the idea that events occur in a linear order. Always forward, never back.'
'Distance is an illusion', I had told myself and others, in another ocean. 'A theory based on the idea that the universe can truly be separated from itself.'
'He was not born a god', the thirty-six documents said with one voice, about the Prophet Vivec. But I knew it to be false. He had, and had not been, born a god. The Prophet had wished for both to be true -- for two to become one. The contradiction did not frighten him as it did others.
'I was not born a Khajiit', I told myself with hundreds of voices. But it was false. I had been born a man in a world without magic, I had been born as the eternally deep ocean, I had been born as a being of viral information, I had been born dozens of times as stillborn creatures. And I had been born a Khajiit. All these things were true, but I had not accepted the contradiction before.
Someone mighty with grahthorns and red eyes lustful for a hunt reached out for my heart. They wanted to chase, and to be chased; to be amongst a pack, and to be alone against their enemies. Beautiful contradictions.
But more than those things, more than their beautiful contradictions, they wanted my heart. For only a moment, it was their entire focus.
It was not my nature to let my heart be taken. I could give it, it could be stolen, or it could be seduced. But I would not lay back and let it be taken.
Fang met the hand that reached for my heart in the Void. Blood that tasted of glory and moonlight flowed down into me, followed thereafter by flesh of strength and conquest, then bones of victory and proclamation.
A hand had reached for me, a bloody stump withdrew.
The mighty one with grahthorns and red eyes was delighted.
--
The Altar of Thrond
Sinding
The hagravens worked their spells, and the flesh around Farri's heart began to mend. A knotted scar formed, where the wound had been. That left only the missing eye and damaged ear as unhealed injuries on the cadaver.
Sinding expected something to happen -- Ettiene had described the last stage of the Rite as the innocent's body being morphed into his beast within, that Sinding could kill it and be free of the curse.
Sinding watched the corpse and expected it to move, at any moment. He watched patiently as moments became minutes. He watched patiently as he gripped his hands so hard the joints popped one by one.
"Your spell didn't work," Sinding growled and turned to face the hagravens.
They seemed terribly confused, and murmured to each other about what had gone wrong. "I don't understand -- we knotted the soul thread appropriately." "The words to restore a life have not changed -- have they?" "Were all those soul gem fragments of the same black gem? We didn't get a lesser soul gem mixed in with them?"
It was clear they hadn't any answers for him. The beast howled in his ears for their blood -- it didn't care that it had almost been cast out, it wanted to kill something. Sinding did too. But as the beast slipped into his blood, his ears became keen.
Keen enough to hear a heartbeat.
His eyes snapped to the cat's corpse. Or rather, a cat playing like a corpse. The beast within sharpened his eyes enough to catch minute shifts in Farri's chest.
"It worked," he muttered. He didn't spare the hagravens a glance, lest Farri escape again. "He's alive."
Ettiene swiped her claw in Sinding's direction. "Foolish Breton --
"I'm a Nord."
" -- the spell was a failure. Accept this. Had it worked, a ravenous beast would have risen, with a piece of your lycanthropy for you to kill. No, no," she waved her arm about. "We'll need to think of something else. Perhaps Krev's method?"
"I tell you -- the cat is alive!" Sinding turned from Farri to glare at the hagravens. "What's the next step of the Rite?!"
"There is no next step," Ettiene snapped back and pointed at him. "If the innocent was alive, the beast blood mixture would send them after you instinctually. They would attack you and you would… you would…." She had turned to gesture at the altar, then looked around in confusion. "Where did it go?"
Sinding felt like pinching the bridge of his nose so hard it would become powder. Slowly, he turned to look at the altar. Sure enough, Farri was gone.
There were no indentations in the snow beyond where Farri had escaped the first time -- so Sinding had no idea where he'd gone. Perhaps the damn cat had found a way to fly.
He wanted to get so angry, his freedom from the curse had been teased and yanked away multiple times throughout the whole ordeal.
"Corpses don't get up and walk away! Where did the innocent go?!" The hagravens stood on the altar and looked down its sides, eager to find the tracks. "Tracks on the eastern side…."
Sinding joined them on the altar, and let the beast within heighten his senses again. He could hear the cat's heartbeat, but lacked the werewolf's ears to pinpoint it. He had to turn his head from side to side to locate it.
The heartbeat was right behind them.
Sinding felt the beast within lose its anger suddenly, replaced by fear and an urge to run. He turned, and saw bloody prints in the snow that walked along the edge of the altar until they came to Farri's feet.
He stood behind them, his lonely eye looking at them with hate. There was something slightly off about that eye -- like it was deeper than before. The cat flipped Sinding the bird, and took a deep breath.
The beast within whined at Sinding to run, to find shelter, anything, but Sinding did nothing. Whatever Farri was about to do, it had convinced Sinding's werewolf that the predator had become prey.
Sinding respected that. "Clever cat," he muttered.
"Ven… Gaar Nos!"
A mighty wind struck Sinding, the hagravens, and the altar they stood on. The stone altar was torn from the ground, as were other stones, as the wind swirled around them in a spiral pattern. Whatever Farri had done beckoned a cyclone to form that carried them and everything it could lift with it.
The hagravens screamed as they whirled down the slopes, lost in stone and snow that mixed with ash as they traveled.
Sinding was silent as the mountains became distant. He didn't utter so much as a sound until the cyclone hit the sea and broke. Momentum carried them a ways before the water rushed up to meet them.
---
Chair grew up in the midwest. He knows very well the power of a cyclone -- no dragon souls needed for the Thu'um.
This one will be telling the story from outside perspective, again. It seems to be the best way to keep the rest of the cast engaged. Chair wants everyone to know, biting the hands off Daedric Princes doesn't always end well. But when it does, oh ho ho ho, is it fun to play with.
Chair is playing the part of Farri, a Dagi Khajiit from Morrowind. His family comes from former slave stock, back in the Third Era. Morrowind is still a nasty place for Khajiit, since the Dunmer have adopted the American model for keeping their slaves. Farri was arrested at the hardened criminal age of seven, and made to serve a twelve year forced labor sentence.
He was accused of stealing from a House Redoran noblewoman.
If anyone is curious Farri before being killed is very similar to how Noburu was before killing his friend in Snapping Turtle, or Ketojan before losing his head. Death and being near death snaps them into being aware of the oversoul, yes?
This one hopes you like the story, and what will come of it. Much chaos laddering has to happen.
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Well now he can't turn Sinding's skin into some great armor. Terrible waste.
Chairtastic
Anything's a chair if you're brave enough
- Location
- Breakfast nook
- Pronouns
- He / Him / It
Ah, he's pretty sturdy despite his cowardice. Let's see if he can make it to Falkreath before Farri gets to Windhelm.
Krazyfan1
Worrying for the future.
- Location
- Australia
unfortunatly, as he landed in the ocean, he'll be smelling of wet dog....
Ch 2
Chairtastic
Anything's a chair if you're brave enough
- Location
- Breakfast nook
- Pronouns
- He / Him / It
Chapter Two: Ship Shaping
---
Wreck of the Strident Squall
Reaver Lord Fadar
Things hadn't been the same since the mine closed. Nineteen years, and Fadar hadn't been able to really get somewhere with his life. He spent it all trying to catch up to where he had been. He was a reaver lord, head of a gang of reavers. Back when he was freshly laid off from the Redoran Guard, he'd commanded a gang of almost fifty.
He was down to four, with only one of his original crew still alive.
Fadar was on old mer, he'd been in the Redoran Guard until they couldn't afford to pay him anymore. At best he had maybe four or five years before he was simply too old to wear his bonemould armor. He had wrinkles, he had grey hair, his eyes didn't work so good anymore -- all things he had mocked the men of Raven Rock for in his youth.
He'd had some pretty good luck recently. A trading ship from the Imperial City had run aground off the southern shore of Solstheim -- Fadar and his crew had been enough to take it over and fortify it as best they could. A sharpened log fence, a few displayed corpses to make them seem dangerous, and some ramps made the ship liveable.
Fadar had been on deck of the ship at night, his eyes trained for any movement among the ash-covered dead forest, when a mighty wind kicked up. Fadar was old, but he wasn't scrawny -- with his armor nothing short of a blizzard should have moved him. But that wind almost lifted him off his feet -- he'd had to cling to the ship lest he be blown away.
The most terrifying part was how the wind had come and gone in minutes. He'd spent all night tense, for fear that it would happen again. At dawn, he saw what had happened to the surrounding area.
The wind had lifted hundreds of years worth of ash off the ground in a wide spread to the east of them. Old Fort Frostmouth had been almost completely cleared of the stuff. Fadar sent one of his archers out to scout the area -- his fellow old man and Redoran Guard veteran, Golven.
Fadar had the other three members of their gang ready to pounce if Golven came back chased by ash spawn or burnt spriggans, as had happened more than once. They waited down in the miniature bailey, around the campfire ready to attack on his signal.
Fadar realized, in hindsight, he had been thinking like a Redoran Guard again, not a reaver. Him, the bonemould-armored Dunmer, stood out much more against the overcast sky and ashy soil than his crew in their fur armor.
Fortunately, no one deigned to snipe him before he figured that out and put on a cloak to cover his armor.
Golven returned to the group a couple hours after he'd been sent out, and he didn't come back alone or empty handed. Golven was grinning wide as he came down the shore toward the wrecked ship, a heavy knapsack on his head and with someone running alongside him.
A naked someone, mind. Worse, it looked to be a Khajiit so their fur would stink of the ash wastes.
Fadar sighed, and walked down the ramp to the fenced-in camp. "Golven's on his way back, looks like he found some loot." He told the rest of his band. Fadar waved one of his remaining archers, the young and red-headed Briras, to come close. "Haul that alchemist out of the hold, get the robes off the body, bring 'em to me."
Briras looked at Fadar with confused eyes, his lips pursed with disgust. "Any… particular reason why?"
Fadar cuffed the younger mer in the head. "Cause I said so, s'wit!" He reared his hand back to cuff Briras again but lowered it when the archer ran up the ramps.
Golven came into the camp, pleased as punch. "Right, there's loot for days out there," he said and shrugged the knapsack off his shoulder. "You lot ain't gonna believe this. A tornado hit Mount Mosering and went barreling down toward the coast."
Hakar, the one Nord of their group, immediately called bullshit. "A tornado? Those only form on plains -- Solstheim's all forest and mountain. Lying fetcher."
Golven didn't rise to the Nord's taunt, and instead started offloading the contents of his knapsack. "Raided the old hagraven nest up in the mountains -- got us an alchemy kit! They got an enchanting table up there, but it didn't wanna move." From the bag he pulled several fragile-looking glass baubles and a patterned disk. "On top of lots of other loot."
Golven grinned up at Fadar, wicked and pleased. "The Grove's been cleared out. Found old Verit's body stuck on a tree, that fancy sword of his is lodged right -- "
Fadar strode forward while Golven talked, and rested his hand on the mer's shoulder. "Golven, who's that?" He pointed at the naked Khajiit -- one of their smaller shapes, the lynx-like Dagi -- who stood close to their fence with his lower half behind the wood. "And why did you bring 'em here starkers?"
Golven's wicked smile widened. "Found that thing rooting around in the hagraven nest -- wanted a crew to join, and knows how to use this." The bastard jostled the alchemical kit. "Said some stupid shite about not having a bounty, going into town for us. Stopped paying attention, made 'em think we was being chased, and had to run affore he could get dressed."
"...Why?" The last member of the crew, the sword-and-boarder and only lass, Nenya, asked in a baffled tone.
"Cause fuck 'em, animal shits don't deserve people clothes." Golven chuckled to himself, as if he'd made a good joke. "Slap a collar on 'em, or some slave bracers. That's all their kind needs."
Golven's obvious racism drove the other members of their crew to awkward glances.
"Khajiit would prefer clothes, if there are any spares," the relevant newcomer mentioned with a light tone, though his ears were flicked back.
Fadar made an effort to appear grim and serious while he internally squealed with glee. Having an alchemist would make their lives so much easier. Health and disease curing potions, along with poisons for the three archers -- the Good Daedra were looking out for him!
Also having someone who could go into town to buy things for them would be useful, he supposed. Maybe they could pay off their bounties.
Briras returned with the sopping wet black robes off what had been the ship's alchemist. Poor sod had thrown acid at them, so Fadar had to drown him. Those were the rules -- fight back, death by drowning.
Fadar snatched the black robe from the archer and walked toward the Khajiit to offer it. "Hold it up to your shoulders," he told the cat. Once his instructions were followed, he took the dagger to the hem to shorten it. "You'll roll the sleeves up, probably. Here," he slashed the cut-off hem into sections and passed them along with a couple leather straps. "Make a breech cloth with that."
"Farri thanks you," the Khajiit said with relief as he pulled the robe over his head.
"We don't go stealing people's clothes, unlike some dreugh-filth out there." Fadar gave the Khajiit a once-over as he dressed. The cat had lots of scars, a missing eye, badly torn ear, and a knot-like mark over his chest. Possibly he'd been speared in the torso, but Fadar didn't know for sure. "Don't let Golven being a stupid s'wit make you think that's how we run things."
Farri, the Khajiit, dressed himself and used an extra section from the robe to improvise an eyepatch for his bum eye. "Khajiit would like to join, if there is open space. He can cook, he can brew, he can do alchemy. He understands magic, and can do some himself."
"All things we need," Fadar nodded and crossed his arms. "You got enough scars to where I know you can handle yourself in a fight -- so won't make you knife-fight to get in like we usually do. Keep my people alive and fighting, and you'll get a cut of the plunder."
"Khajiit can do this," the cat nodded. "He will just need to collect ingredients -- what does the captain need presently?"
"Right now? Find a spot to set up that kit." Fadar pointed at the alchemist's equipment from Golven's knapsack. "After that, we'll need something to help cure droops."
Ash hoppers were good eating, but they didn't die easily. And their venom was not to be fucked with.
--
Wreck of the Strident Squall
Reaver Briras
Briras hadn't always lived in Morrowind -- he'd started out as an orphan in Senchal, taken in by a pair of Khajiiti merchants. His life had been a happy, if boring one, until the Void Nights. When the moons vanished from the sky, chaos reigned in Elsweyr. It'd only been two years long, but it felt longer -- anxiety and the sometimes literal fight to survive had dragged time out slowly.
But the moons came back, the Summerset Island's new government the Thalmor claimed credit, and Elsweyr became a client state of theirs. The Thalmor very much disliked anyone who wasn't an Altmer, such as the shorter tree-dwelling Bosmer, or random Dunmer living in their territory.
The last time he'd seen his parents, or any Khajiit, had been when they helped him get on a ship bound for Solstheim with other fleeing dark elves.
So when Golven brought in another Khajiit, he was somewhat giddy. Someone with whom he could connect, at last. Someone who wouldn't mock his accent, or how he didn't know what a n'wah was, and would appreciate moon sugar.
Farri had set up shop in the Squall's forepeak, a room that could only be reached by swimming or by a small hole in the hull. The reason was pretty simple -- Golven wouldn't leave the cat alone, and Golven didn't know how to swim.
Golven was the second oldest in the crew, and had known the boss for the longest, so he got away with all kinds of horrible stuff. Golven was partly why the crew had lost so many people -- the man liked to kill regularly.
Briras had seen Golven take shots at their own while they were fishing, and tell the boss they'd run off. Only their small numbers had been able to keep Golven's bloodlust in check.
So while he was on watch that night, Briras edged his way from the campfire to the window into Farri's lab. "So," he said, super casual, as he leaned against the hull. "How long you been in Morrowind?"
Farri's face appeared at the window a moment later, with his eyebrow raised. "Khajiit was born in Blacklight. Has been in Morrowind all his life." The lynx-like face vanished, and the sound of grinding stone on stone came from the interior. "Has only heard stories of Elsweyr. Mostly of the north."
"Anequina, yeah." Briras was disappointed, but he found some solace in a gap in the Khajiit's knowledge. "I was born in Pellitine, specifically Senchal. Grew up there, too."
"This one has heard the south of Elsweyr is full of soft merchants. Is true?"
"Very." Briras chuckled. "They can still fight -- but they also have a tendency to get fat." Like his parents had. They weren't rich, but they had a love for cooking and sweets. Those things took their toll after a while.
"Khajiit doesn't think he will have that problem. There isn't enough moon sugar on Solstheim -- not even as skooma." The cat was hard at work, mixing potions from the ingredients they'd been able to gather on the shore. "Khajiit knows Solstheim is too cold for moon sugar cane, but perhaps sleeping tree sap would good farming."
"I… don't know what sleeping tree sap is, but if it's sweet I'm all for it." By Azura did Briras miss the abundance of sweets in Senchal. "Some sugar would certainly help get me through my watch."
A grey bottle was held out from the window after a moment. "Here."
Briras took the potion with pinched eyebrows and a downturned mouth. He'd only seen grey bottles used in paralytic poisons. "What's this?"
"Night eye potion. This one thinks it'll help you stay awake." As soon as the bottle was taken, Farri's hand pointed out beyond the camp's fence. "Have the fire at your back when you use it."
Briras shrugged, and pushed off the hull. It was a pretty good first talk, but Farri was clearly busy and had wanted Briras to go back to the watch. He did as he was instructed, walked around the campfire so that it was at his back, then took the potion.
His vision rapidly greyed out, colors were lost quickly, but in their place the hard wall of darkness at the edge of the fire light brightened. He could almost see the stars through the ash clouds overhead. But he could definitely see things that wandered the ashy dead forest.
Between the limbless trunks of dead pines wandered was a skeletal figure -- loosely in the shape of a woman with hooved feet and hands bigger than her head. A spriggan, burned by Red Mountain's ashfalls until all the green in her was a memory.
The creature seemed to wander aimlessly through the woods, until she lashed out at random patches of ash. Brief flashes of light accompanied the attacks.
Briras realized what the spriggan was up to -- she was killing ash spawn as they formed around her. The not-quite-undead amalgams of ash, heat, and bone fragments were a constant threat in southern Solstheim.
He got down on one knee and readied his bow. He didn't nock an arrow or draw, that would provoke the spriggan. In his view, as long as they both minded their business there would be no issue. He prayed that remained so, for even a lone burned spriggan could tear through their camp without slowing down.
The night eye potion only lasted a few minutes, but Briras' furiously beating heart kept him from so much as feeling drowsy.
--
Wreck of the Strident Squall
Reaver Lord Fadar
The crew was restless, even Golven. When he woke and went to the fire to see what they had left for rations, all his archers and Nenya were silently looking out from the camp. It didn't take him long to see why.
A couple burned spriggans had started to patrol the distant forest. They hadn't come down to the shore, or everyone would be dead. One burned spriggan was mean enough to kill them all, two or more would be ditch the camp and start over territory.
They weren't aimlessly wandering, no, Fadar had been on Solstheim for long enough to know better. The spriggans were on the hunt for something. That meant there was no going out into the forest to hunt for ash hoppers or to forage for ash yams.
Fadar sighed, and went to the window into the Squall's forepeak -- where the cat had set up shop. He tapped on the edge of the window, which got the cat to look up at him. "Come on, gotta go clam hunting. Might as well collect ingredients while we're out."
The one-eyed cat nodded, and dashed around his impromptu room before he emerged from the window with a scimitar on his back.
Fadar blinked, thankful for his bonemould helmet that kept him inscruitable. "Where did you find that?" He pointed at the scimitar.
"Farri found it on a Redguard corpse in there," he responded and pointed at the forepeak. "Khajiit has been using the Redguard's corpse to make poisons for archers, as boss requested."
"Hrm. Right, no." Fadar snapped his fingers and held his hand out. "That's way too big for a beginner. Fork it over."
The Khajiit flicked his ears back and passed the sword and the leather strip which improvised a harness to hold it.
"Nenya, catch." Fadar tossed the sword at her, then groaned when she dove out of the way instead. "Come on, you have the reflexes to catch that!" He ignored her furious tirade about 'losing a hand', or 'severe bloodloss', and focused on Farri. "I'll show you how to do a simple conjuration trick -- all you'll need to use it for is prying open clams."
Teaching the cat how to use the Bound Dagger spell was pretty easy -- the cat seemed to pick up on the spell before Fadar finished explaining it. Once the basic concepts were understood, he seemed to know what to do.
The cat was like a machine at prying open clams and collecting ingredients as they went down the shore. The benefits of youth, Fadar supposed. However, the cat also had no problem at prying open the much stronger oysters for their pearls.
"What magic do you know, boy?" Fadar asked as he watched Farri saw through some trama root.
"Khajiit mostly knows illusion. Knows Flame spell and Healing spell outside of that." The cat put the trama root he'd sawed off into his apothecary's satchel, and held his hand up. After a moment, he went to a dune of ash and started to dig through it. "Aha, gotcha." Farri pulled out an ash-coated block of salt. "Mix with trama root, this makes good sedative. Once cleaned, of course."
Fadar crouched near to the Khajiit, and poked the salty rock he'd pulled up. A flair of magicka, and the ash-coated rock was pristine as the ash fell away. "You gotta know at least some Alteration magic out here -- else you can't find drinkable water."
Farri examined the salt, then looked up at Fadar with a wide eye. "Could you teach this one?"
Fadar's bones ached. He knew every day drew him closer to when he just couldn't run the crew anymore. And he wasn't successful enough to retire on a pile of plunder. He expected the Khajiit was similar, with all his scars and how easily he adapted to living in a wreck. "I could." Fadar nodded to the Khajiit. "Iffin you whip me up something for my joints. Got the arthritis."
Farri actually smirked. "Khajiit can make potions like that with no eyes and one hand."
"Don't say that around Golven. You'll wake up like that." Fadar honestly wished sometimes Golven had been one of his original crew what hadn't survived. Golven had survived by being meaner than a spriggan and as madder than cheese, neither of which did well in their current circumstances.
Fadar shook his head and let his magicka spark in his fingers. "Right. So, the way I had it explained to me was that all things are basically coiled up, ready to change. You just gotta use magicka to make it happen, see…."
He'd meant to teach the cat how to cast Oakflesh, a solid beginner spell. But Farri had only heard the basic mechanics of how to alter matter before he was working it freeform. The cat didn't dig through ash, he had the compacted ash grow light again and blew it away like dandelion seeds.
Fadar didn't stop to think much about it until he witnessed Farri use the magic on his own robe to contort it to his dimensions. Still baggy, but not voluminous anymore. "That's… not something a beginner is supposed to be able to do."
"Khajiit isn't a beginner," Farri responded with a shrug. "He has all the ingredients he needs to make the arthritis potion. Back to the ship?"
Fadar tried to parse the information he'd just heard. Farri wasn't a beginner but had needed a beginner's explanation? Something wasn't proper about that. As he was about to raise the issue, his knees started to ache again. Damnit, a storm was on its way.
"Yeah… yeah, sure, whatever." He started to trudge off toward the ship. "You're making me that potion, then getting to work on some cooked clams."
"Golven eats last."
"Fine, just walk faster."
---
Not too much action this chapter, but we're setting things up. Burnt spriggans are level 28 in Skyrim, I thought I'd let you guys know that -- they are not to be fuck'teded with until you can potentially take two on at once.
Which none of these nerds can right now.
Also don't worry about giving Farri the ability to alter the physical laws of the Aurbis. It's fine, it's fine, don't worry about it.
---
Wreck of the Strident Squall
Reaver Lord Fadar
Things hadn't been the same since the mine closed. Nineteen years, and Fadar hadn't been able to really get somewhere with his life. He spent it all trying to catch up to where he had been. He was a reaver lord, head of a gang of reavers. Back when he was freshly laid off from the Redoran Guard, he'd commanded a gang of almost fifty.
He was down to four, with only one of his original crew still alive.
Fadar was on old mer, he'd been in the Redoran Guard until they couldn't afford to pay him anymore. At best he had maybe four or five years before he was simply too old to wear his bonemould armor. He had wrinkles, he had grey hair, his eyes didn't work so good anymore -- all things he had mocked the men of Raven Rock for in his youth.
He'd had some pretty good luck recently. A trading ship from the Imperial City had run aground off the southern shore of Solstheim -- Fadar and his crew had been enough to take it over and fortify it as best they could. A sharpened log fence, a few displayed corpses to make them seem dangerous, and some ramps made the ship liveable.
Fadar had been on deck of the ship at night, his eyes trained for any movement among the ash-covered dead forest, when a mighty wind kicked up. Fadar was old, but he wasn't scrawny -- with his armor nothing short of a blizzard should have moved him. But that wind almost lifted him off his feet -- he'd had to cling to the ship lest he be blown away.
The most terrifying part was how the wind had come and gone in minutes. He'd spent all night tense, for fear that it would happen again. At dawn, he saw what had happened to the surrounding area.
The wind had lifted hundreds of years worth of ash off the ground in a wide spread to the east of them. Old Fort Frostmouth had been almost completely cleared of the stuff. Fadar sent one of his archers out to scout the area -- his fellow old man and Redoran Guard veteran, Golven.
Fadar had the other three members of their gang ready to pounce if Golven came back chased by ash spawn or burnt spriggans, as had happened more than once. They waited down in the miniature bailey, around the campfire ready to attack on his signal.
Fadar realized, in hindsight, he had been thinking like a Redoran Guard again, not a reaver. Him, the bonemould-armored Dunmer, stood out much more against the overcast sky and ashy soil than his crew in their fur armor.
Fortunately, no one deigned to snipe him before he figured that out and put on a cloak to cover his armor.
Golven returned to the group a couple hours after he'd been sent out, and he didn't come back alone or empty handed. Golven was grinning wide as he came down the shore toward the wrecked ship, a heavy knapsack on his head and with someone running alongside him.
A naked someone, mind. Worse, it looked to be a Khajiit so their fur would stink of the ash wastes.
Fadar sighed, and walked down the ramp to the fenced-in camp. "Golven's on his way back, looks like he found some loot." He told the rest of his band. Fadar waved one of his remaining archers, the young and red-headed Briras, to come close. "Haul that alchemist out of the hold, get the robes off the body, bring 'em to me."
Briras looked at Fadar with confused eyes, his lips pursed with disgust. "Any… particular reason why?"
Fadar cuffed the younger mer in the head. "Cause I said so, s'wit!" He reared his hand back to cuff Briras again but lowered it when the archer ran up the ramps.
Golven came into the camp, pleased as punch. "Right, there's loot for days out there," he said and shrugged the knapsack off his shoulder. "You lot ain't gonna believe this. A tornado hit Mount Mosering and went barreling down toward the coast."
Hakar, the one Nord of their group, immediately called bullshit. "A tornado? Those only form on plains -- Solstheim's all forest and mountain. Lying fetcher."
Golven didn't rise to the Nord's taunt, and instead started offloading the contents of his knapsack. "Raided the old hagraven nest up in the mountains -- got us an alchemy kit! They got an enchanting table up there, but it didn't wanna move." From the bag he pulled several fragile-looking glass baubles and a patterned disk. "On top of lots of other loot."
Golven grinned up at Fadar, wicked and pleased. "The Grove's been cleared out. Found old Verit's body stuck on a tree, that fancy sword of his is lodged right -- "
Fadar strode forward while Golven talked, and rested his hand on the mer's shoulder. "Golven, who's that?" He pointed at the naked Khajiit -- one of their smaller shapes, the lynx-like Dagi -- who stood close to their fence with his lower half behind the wood. "And why did you bring 'em here starkers?"
Golven's wicked smile widened. "Found that thing rooting around in the hagraven nest -- wanted a crew to join, and knows how to use this." The bastard jostled the alchemical kit. "Said some stupid shite about not having a bounty, going into town for us. Stopped paying attention, made 'em think we was being chased, and had to run affore he could get dressed."
"...Why?" The last member of the crew, the sword-and-boarder and only lass, Nenya, asked in a baffled tone.
"Cause fuck 'em, animal shits don't deserve people clothes." Golven chuckled to himself, as if he'd made a good joke. "Slap a collar on 'em, or some slave bracers. That's all their kind needs."
Golven's obvious racism drove the other members of their crew to awkward glances.
"Khajiit would prefer clothes, if there are any spares," the relevant newcomer mentioned with a light tone, though his ears were flicked back.
Fadar made an effort to appear grim and serious while he internally squealed with glee. Having an alchemist would make their lives so much easier. Health and disease curing potions, along with poisons for the three archers -- the Good Daedra were looking out for him!
Also having someone who could go into town to buy things for them would be useful, he supposed. Maybe they could pay off their bounties.
Briras returned with the sopping wet black robes off what had been the ship's alchemist. Poor sod had thrown acid at them, so Fadar had to drown him. Those were the rules -- fight back, death by drowning.
Fadar snatched the black robe from the archer and walked toward the Khajiit to offer it. "Hold it up to your shoulders," he told the cat. Once his instructions were followed, he took the dagger to the hem to shorten it. "You'll roll the sleeves up, probably. Here," he slashed the cut-off hem into sections and passed them along with a couple leather straps. "Make a breech cloth with that."
"Farri thanks you," the Khajiit said with relief as he pulled the robe over his head.
"We don't go stealing people's clothes, unlike some dreugh-filth out there." Fadar gave the Khajiit a once-over as he dressed. The cat had lots of scars, a missing eye, badly torn ear, and a knot-like mark over his chest. Possibly he'd been speared in the torso, but Fadar didn't know for sure. "Don't let Golven being a stupid s'wit make you think that's how we run things."
Farri, the Khajiit, dressed himself and used an extra section from the robe to improvise an eyepatch for his bum eye. "Khajiit would like to join, if there is open space. He can cook, he can brew, he can do alchemy. He understands magic, and can do some himself."
"All things we need," Fadar nodded and crossed his arms. "You got enough scars to where I know you can handle yourself in a fight -- so won't make you knife-fight to get in like we usually do. Keep my people alive and fighting, and you'll get a cut of the plunder."
"Khajiit can do this," the cat nodded. "He will just need to collect ingredients -- what does the captain need presently?"
"Right now? Find a spot to set up that kit." Fadar pointed at the alchemist's equipment from Golven's knapsack. "After that, we'll need something to help cure droops."
Ash hoppers were good eating, but they didn't die easily. And their venom was not to be fucked with.
--
Wreck of the Strident Squall
Reaver Briras
Briras hadn't always lived in Morrowind -- he'd started out as an orphan in Senchal, taken in by a pair of Khajiiti merchants. His life had been a happy, if boring one, until the Void Nights. When the moons vanished from the sky, chaos reigned in Elsweyr. It'd only been two years long, but it felt longer -- anxiety and the sometimes literal fight to survive had dragged time out slowly.
But the moons came back, the Summerset Island's new government the Thalmor claimed credit, and Elsweyr became a client state of theirs. The Thalmor very much disliked anyone who wasn't an Altmer, such as the shorter tree-dwelling Bosmer, or random Dunmer living in their territory.
The last time he'd seen his parents, or any Khajiit, had been when they helped him get on a ship bound for Solstheim with other fleeing dark elves.
So when Golven brought in another Khajiit, he was somewhat giddy. Someone with whom he could connect, at last. Someone who wouldn't mock his accent, or how he didn't know what a n'wah was, and would appreciate moon sugar.
Farri had set up shop in the Squall's forepeak, a room that could only be reached by swimming or by a small hole in the hull. The reason was pretty simple -- Golven wouldn't leave the cat alone, and Golven didn't know how to swim.
Golven was the second oldest in the crew, and had known the boss for the longest, so he got away with all kinds of horrible stuff. Golven was partly why the crew had lost so many people -- the man liked to kill regularly.
Briras had seen Golven take shots at their own while they were fishing, and tell the boss they'd run off. Only their small numbers had been able to keep Golven's bloodlust in check.
So while he was on watch that night, Briras edged his way from the campfire to the window into Farri's lab. "So," he said, super casual, as he leaned against the hull. "How long you been in Morrowind?"
Farri's face appeared at the window a moment later, with his eyebrow raised. "Khajiit was born in Blacklight. Has been in Morrowind all his life." The lynx-like face vanished, and the sound of grinding stone on stone came from the interior. "Has only heard stories of Elsweyr. Mostly of the north."
"Anequina, yeah." Briras was disappointed, but he found some solace in a gap in the Khajiit's knowledge. "I was born in Pellitine, specifically Senchal. Grew up there, too."
"This one has heard the south of Elsweyr is full of soft merchants. Is true?"
"Very." Briras chuckled. "They can still fight -- but they also have a tendency to get fat." Like his parents had. They weren't rich, but they had a love for cooking and sweets. Those things took their toll after a while.
"Khajiit doesn't think he will have that problem. There isn't enough moon sugar on Solstheim -- not even as skooma." The cat was hard at work, mixing potions from the ingredients they'd been able to gather on the shore. "Khajiit knows Solstheim is too cold for moon sugar cane, but perhaps sleeping tree sap would good farming."
"I… don't know what sleeping tree sap is, but if it's sweet I'm all for it." By Azura did Briras miss the abundance of sweets in Senchal. "Some sugar would certainly help get me through my watch."
A grey bottle was held out from the window after a moment. "Here."
Briras took the potion with pinched eyebrows and a downturned mouth. He'd only seen grey bottles used in paralytic poisons. "What's this?"
"Night eye potion. This one thinks it'll help you stay awake." As soon as the bottle was taken, Farri's hand pointed out beyond the camp's fence. "Have the fire at your back when you use it."
Briras shrugged, and pushed off the hull. It was a pretty good first talk, but Farri was clearly busy and had wanted Briras to go back to the watch. He did as he was instructed, walked around the campfire so that it was at his back, then took the potion.
His vision rapidly greyed out, colors were lost quickly, but in their place the hard wall of darkness at the edge of the fire light brightened. He could almost see the stars through the ash clouds overhead. But he could definitely see things that wandered the ashy dead forest.
Between the limbless trunks of dead pines wandered was a skeletal figure -- loosely in the shape of a woman with hooved feet and hands bigger than her head. A spriggan, burned by Red Mountain's ashfalls until all the green in her was a memory.
The creature seemed to wander aimlessly through the woods, until she lashed out at random patches of ash. Brief flashes of light accompanied the attacks.
Briras realized what the spriggan was up to -- she was killing ash spawn as they formed around her. The not-quite-undead amalgams of ash, heat, and bone fragments were a constant threat in southern Solstheim.
He got down on one knee and readied his bow. He didn't nock an arrow or draw, that would provoke the spriggan. In his view, as long as they both minded their business there would be no issue. He prayed that remained so, for even a lone burned spriggan could tear through their camp without slowing down.
The night eye potion only lasted a few minutes, but Briras' furiously beating heart kept him from so much as feeling drowsy.
--
Wreck of the Strident Squall
Reaver Lord Fadar
The crew was restless, even Golven. When he woke and went to the fire to see what they had left for rations, all his archers and Nenya were silently looking out from the camp. It didn't take him long to see why.
A couple burned spriggans had started to patrol the distant forest. They hadn't come down to the shore, or everyone would be dead. One burned spriggan was mean enough to kill them all, two or more would be ditch the camp and start over territory.
They weren't aimlessly wandering, no, Fadar had been on Solstheim for long enough to know better. The spriggans were on the hunt for something. That meant there was no going out into the forest to hunt for ash hoppers or to forage for ash yams.
Fadar sighed, and went to the window into the Squall's forepeak -- where the cat had set up shop. He tapped on the edge of the window, which got the cat to look up at him. "Come on, gotta go clam hunting. Might as well collect ingredients while we're out."
The one-eyed cat nodded, and dashed around his impromptu room before he emerged from the window with a scimitar on his back.
Fadar blinked, thankful for his bonemould helmet that kept him inscruitable. "Where did you find that?" He pointed at the scimitar.
"Farri found it on a Redguard corpse in there," he responded and pointed at the forepeak. "Khajiit has been using the Redguard's corpse to make poisons for archers, as boss requested."
"Hrm. Right, no." Fadar snapped his fingers and held his hand out. "That's way too big for a beginner. Fork it over."
The Khajiit flicked his ears back and passed the sword and the leather strip which improvised a harness to hold it.
"Nenya, catch." Fadar tossed the sword at her, then groaned when she dove out of the way instead. "Come on, you have the reflexes to catch that!" He ignored her furious tirade about 'losing a hand', or 'severe bloodloss', and focused on Farri. "I'll show you how to do a simple conjuration trick -- all you'll need to use it for is prying open clams."
Teaching the cat how to use the Bound Dagger spell was pretty easy -- the cat seemed to pick up on the spell before Fadar finished explaining it. Once the basic concepts were understood, he seemed to know what to do.
The cat was like a machine at prying open clams and collecting ingredients as they went down the shore. The benefits of youth, Fadar supposed. However, the cat also had no problem at prying open the much stronger oysters for their pearls.
"What magic do you know, boy?" Fadar asked as he watched Farri saw through some trama root.
"Khajiit mostly knows illusion. Knows Flame spell and Healing spell outside of that." The cat put the trama root he'd sawed off into his apothecary's satchel, and held his hand up. After a moment, he went to a dune of ash and started to dig through it. "Aha, gotcha." Farri pulled out an ash-coated block of salt. "Mix with trama root, this makes good sedative. Once cleaned, of course."
Fadar crouched near to the Khajiit, and poked the salty rock he'd pulled up. A flair of magicka, and the ash-coated rock was pristine as the ash fell away. "You gotta know at least some Alteration magic out here -- else you can't find drinkable water."
Farri examined the salt, then looked up at Fadar with a wide eye. "Could you teach this one?"
Fadar's bones ached. He knew every day drew him closer to when he just couldn't run the crew anymore. And he wasn't successful enough to retire on a pile of plunder. He expected the Khajiit was similar, with all his scars and how easily he adapted to living in a wreck. "I could." Fadar nodded to the Khajiit. "Iffin you whip me up something for my joints. Got the arthritis."
Farri actually smirked. "Khajiit can make potions like that with no eyes and one hand."
"Don't say that around Golven. You'll wake up like that." Fadar honestly wished sometimes Golven had been one of his original crew what hadn't survived. Golven had survived by being meaner than a spriggan and as madder than cheese, neither of which did well in their current circumstances.
Fadar shook his head and let his magicka spark in his fingers. "Right. So, the way I had it explained to me was that all things are basically coiled up, ready to change. You just gotta use magicka to make it happen, see…."
He'd meant to teach the cat how to cast Oakflesh, a solid beginner spell. But Farri had only heard the basic mechanics of how to alter matter before he was working it freeform. The cat didn't dig through ash, he had the compacted ash grow light again and blew it away like dandelion seeds.
Fadar didn't stop to think much about it until he witnessed Farri use the magic on his own robe to contort it to his dimensions. Still baggy, but not voluminous anymore. "That's… not something a beginner is supposed to be able to do."
"Khajiit isn't a beginner," Farri responded with a shrug. "He has all the ingredients he needs to make the arthritis potion. Back to the ship?"
Fadar tried to parse the information he'd just heard. Farri wasn't a beginner but had needed a beginner's explanation? Something wasn't proper about that. As he was about to raise the issue, his knees started to ache again. Damnit, a storm was on its way.
"Yeah… yeah, sure, whatever." He started to trudge off toward the ship. "You're making me that potion, then getting to work on some cooked clams."
"Golven eats last."
"Fine, just walk faster."
---
Not too much action this chapter, but we're setting things up. Burnt spriggans are level 28 in Skyrim, I thought I'd let you guys know that -- they are not to be fuck'teded with until you can potentially take two on at once.
Which none of these nerds can right now.
Also don't worry about giving Farri the ability to alter the physical laws of the Aurbis. It's fine, it's fine, don't worry about it.
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Ch 3
Chairtastic
Anything's a chair if you're brave enough
- Location
- Breakfast nook
- Pronouns
- He / Him / It
Chapter Three: Raven Rocking
---
Wreck of the Strident Squall
Reaver Hakar
Hakar hadn't had good clams in years -- not since he left Dawnstar. He was the first one to try the clam chowder, as none of the Dunmer had so much as seen the milky, buttery soup. One spoonful, and he was back home.
His pa had been a fisherman, brought pearls and clams home for Hakar's ma. Ma had worked at the tavern, so she knew how to cook hearty food to shield against the frigid cold. When Hakar had that soup, he could forget about the ash, the dark elves, and robbing people for money.
"The only thing that could make this better," Hakar said as the Dunmer in his crew waited for his verdict, "would be some mead to go with it. Give it a try."
Farri had been busy keeping the chowder in the pot stirred to avoid burns, but the cat smiled at Hakar's praise.
One by one, the Dunmer grabbed bowls of chowder and dug in. Even the boss seemed less stiff about the whole thing -- it was almost like the soup had given him a bit more bend in his joints.
"I didn't know you could cook clams like this," Nenya announced after she'd tried some chowder. "Where'd you learn to cook?"
"Farri learned at the mine, up north." The cat pointed north, toward Mount Mosering, then returned to stirring.
Golven leaned forward, a bowl of chowder in his hand but uneaten at the time. "Wait… there's a working mine up there?"
"There are working mines, or potential mines, all over Solstheim." Farri shrugged. "Damphall, Broken Tusk… plenty of gems and ore to mine."
Hakar paused with a spoon of chowder in his mouth as he looked around at the rest of the crew. Nenya and Briras were confused, the boss was taken aback, and he caught Golven in the midst of an eye roll.
"Just north of Raven Rock Khajiit knows there is gem geodes, and gold veins near the surface." The cat tapped some clam chunks off the spoon, and kept stirring. "White Ridge Barrow has so many ruby veins."
"Pfeh," Golven scoffed and waved his hand with a disdainful face. "Like an animal would know anything about that."
"Khajiit worked in a mine for twelve years, he knows his minerals." The cat poured himself a bowl, and sat down between Hakar and Briras.
Hakar thought the discussion was done, and dug into his chowder with gusto. He didn't think Farri would ever get Golven to show basic decency -- Golven was too securely attached to the boss to face reprisals.
"You say there's gold and gems north of Raven Rock?" The boss asked with clear interest.
Farri nodded, and ate some chowder. "Mhm. Khajiit also knows lots of places to get stahlrim. Strong as ebony, but lighter." His ears flicked to the sides and his one eye half-lidded itself. "Hours of grinding good for something, I suppose." The last sentence was muttered, only Hakar and Briras seemed to hear it.
"Stahlrim?"
Hakar blinked, then turned to the boss. "Um. Enchanted ice, supposed to be stronger than metal. Ancient Nords used it to encase their dead so necromancers couldn't get at them, and made stuff from it."
The boss had his helmet up to eat, which let Hakar see the look of a scheme building in his mind. "And… where would the closest source of stahlrim be?"
Golven scoffed, and shoved the boss by the shoulder. "You ain't seriously thinking this fetcher knows what he's talking about?"
The boss shoved him back. "Hush up. I asked a question."
Farri ate another spoonful of chowder and considered. "Kolbjorn barrow -- buried under multiple tonnes of ash and rubble. Next closest is the Raven Rock mine and Bloodskal Barrow junction."
"Alright, how does the n'wah know that?" Golven gestured to the cat with his spoon. "Hmm? Think on that."
"Khajiit has spell, Clairvoyance." He held up his hand, where a barely-visible orb of magicka formed. "Shows you where you want to go, or what you want to find." Farri's ears were pinned back, clearly ready to fight Golven if the mer didn't let up.
That seemed to satisfy the boss, who held up his hand to silence Golven when next he opened his mouth. "Right. It's something we can maybe use as leverage. Or pursue on our own." He turned to face the gap in the fence. "When we don't have to deal with rowdy neighbors."
Golven had nothing but daggers for the lot of them. Oddly, he also had daggers for the boss.
"If gold is in desperate need, Khajiit knows of a merchant in Raven Rock who will buy pendants with the East Empire Company logo on them." Farri spooned himself a hefty chunk of clam meat, and let the boss sit on that before he continued. "Khajiit saw that there is one in the ship. Easy money, yes?"
"I'll eat to that." Hakar raised his bowl as if it were mead flagon, which prompted the other junior gang members to do the same.
--
Raven Rock
Shift Lead Dravynea
Raven Rock was a town that died a little more every day. What industry they had was from people outside the town that came in. Tel Mithryn's staff who spent Telvanni money on goods, and Highpoint Tower Miners who brought back meager gems and ore.
Since Damphall Mine had been taken over by reavers, the flow of iron ore to the town was all but stopped. Without iron, the orichalcum Dravynea and her boys brought back was basically useless. Which meant the only meaningful sales she made on behalf of the mine was what gold they could mine and the gemstones. Luxury goods, in a town that lacked basic necessities.
Dravynea sold what she could, for as much as she could, and sat at a table in the local tavern to try and figure out how she could pay her crew, herself, and still get some profit for Renden at the mine.
The Retching Netch was like most of the traditional Dunmer buildings in Raven Rock, a beetle-like structure on the surface where the fireplace and cooking would be done, then the rest of the building belowground. The cold soil of Solstheim underneath all the ash helped keep their homes temperate compared to the hot ashy air outside.
Dravynea sat at a table, her eyes locked on the purse she had with her, and hoped that the coins inside would add up to more if she counted them one more time. It was not so.
She covered her face with one hand, and held onto her purse in a vice grip with the other. No one would rob her while she dealt with reality.
If it didn't cost a hundred gold to ask the temple for a blessing from the Reclamations, she would have gone -- the Good Daedra were all she had to turn to.
She felt the gold through the bag, and sighed. It seemed that the time to move on had finally come. With the Redoran Guard so few that they couldn't project their power outside of Raven Rock, there was next to no chance they'd retake Damphall. Even if they did, the iron was mostly used by the town itself.
Solstheim seemed to have entered a death spiral, and there wasn't much anyone could do for it.
The ship from Windhelm in Skyrim would arrive in a couple days -- she had that long to send a letter to Renden to announce her departure, and to convince as many of her crew to come with her as she could.
But where to go, she wondered. Windhelm didn't have many mines -- but there were good mines in Skyrim. Kynesgrove, Darkwater Crossing, and those competing mines in Dawnstar to name a few.
She happened to glance at the bar to see the owner, Geldis, speak with a short Khajiit. For a moment, she thought it must be Farri -- but a closer look had her reconsider. That one was heavily scarred -- missing an eye and part of an ear on the same side most notably. Farri didn't so much as have a burn scar -- he'd been liberal with healing potions and the Healing spell specifically for that purpose.
How odd, for there to be two Dagi Khajiit on Solstheim, though.
The cat caught her looking, and perked his ears up -- perhaps he thought her interested.
Dravynea looked away, and didn't pay the stranger any more mind. She had to figure out her next move.
A clink on the table prompted her to look up. There was a sujama urn she didn't recall ordering, right next to her hand, and the cat hurriedly walked to the stairs. Maybe the cat had only been interested in passing out drinks, she considered, and popped the cork to drink.
Geldis had done it again, another fabulous concoction.
--
Raven Rock
Glover Mallory
Gods, did he hate working orichalchum, it was such a temperamental ore and he simply didn't have the skill to work it without iron. If he'd studied the ore like Orcs did, he could make it stronger than steel and half as heavy. But he couldn't.
Glover didn't like to admit a gap in his skill, he was pretty proud, so the fact that only gold and orichalchum came to him for smelting annoyed him. It left him in a foul mood, and terse with what few customers he had.
"Excuse, please? This one would speak with you."
Glover sighed at the sound of an accented and third-person voice. A Khajiit. What in Oblivion was one of them even doing on Solstheim? He kept his back to the voice, and made a show of fiddling with his smelter. "A bit busy right now, come back tomorrow."
Orichalcum needed a low heat for a long period of time to melt evenly, so Glover could easily walk away from it. But screw dealing with customers.
"Well Khajiit wanted to return Mallory's very nice pickaxe, but if he doesn't want it…."
That got Glover to turn around, then look down slightly. A short Khajiit, lynx-like but with scars most Nords would envy, held his weathered and carved stone ancient Nord pickaxe out for him. The little guy was dressed in black robes, like most back-alley alchemists from Riften.
"How did you…?"
"Khajiit heard Imperial brag about having it, and saw the shadowmark on your door." The cat gestured with his head toward the doorway to Glover's house. "He thought he could do a favor for a man of the Guild."
Like the spring thaw, the sour mood Glover was in melted away. He was suddenly all smiles, and took the axe without issue. "Much appreciated. I'm retired from the Guild, but glad to see it's going strong." He looked the young'in up and down. "You're… not exactly dressed for the work, though."
The Khajiit shook his head. "No. Khajiit just got out of long prison sentence. Doing… odd jobs to get feet under him." The cat reached into a knapsack and pulled out a stoppered urn. "Speaking of which, Geldis pays this one to distribute latest sujama drink. Is very good." The Khajiit sing-songed the last part, and held the urn out temptingly.
"Don't have to put the charm on me. Geldis' sujama is too good to pass up free." Glover took the sujama urn, and walked to his workbench to lay both items down. "Glover Mallory, if you ran with the Guild you probably know my brother Delvin."
"Farri, this one is unhappy to report that Vex hasn't nailed Delvin to the Flagon wall like she promises." The newly introduced Khajiit was flippant on the subject.
Something didn't add up. Glover knew the name Farri -- miners from Highpoint Tower talked about a Khajiit by that name sometime. From what Glover understood, the Farri they spoke of had arrived on Solstheim a boy, and spent his whole life a prisoner. But the Khajiit he looked at appeared to have been on the wrong end of a Dwemer spinning-blade trap more than once.
"Well, there's always next year." Glover shrugged, his suspicions hidden by years of Guild training. "Brynjolf still running things?"
Farri looked up at him with his one eye narrowed. "Hmm… no. Brynjolf plays the part of a conman, to fleece fools. Mercer and Maven run things, still."
That was all true from when Glover left Riften, but he didn't know how the Khajiit could know it. "Sorry, mind must be slipping in old age." He shrugged, played it off like he'd slipped up. "Thanks for the sujama and getting my pickaxe back, is there something I can do for you?"
The cat glanced around, and spoke much softer. "Khajiit would like a Guild perspective. Is Raven Rock going to last the year?"
Glover took a deep breath, looked around the city at empty buildings and dejected dark elves, then let his breath out. "I'm not sure how it's lasted this long. Basically the only thing keeping this place going is the Serevin family."
Farri considered that, and looked around. "House Redoran gives you no trouble?"
"I get their instincts itching just being around them, but I'm the only blacksmith left. They don't have much choice."
"No threats of slapping bracers on you and making you work for free?"
Glover's face darkened as he remembered the early days of his time in Morrowind. "They did, a long while ago. But Veleth took over the Guard, and put a stop to that kind of talk. Man's a stick in the mud, but doesn't hold slaving very highly." He shook his head, to clear the old memories out. "So… where you staying? Retching Netch until a boat comes?"
"Khajiit stays with some reavers outside the city." Farri shrugged. "He finds them adorably pathetic, maybe useful -- they seem open to paying their bounties and coming back to the city."
Glover nodded -- as that tracked with his understanding of the cat's story so far. He'd been released, and automatically went to the closest Guild equivalent, in search of familiarity. "Hmm. Well, if they want that account squared without needing to fork over a small mountain of gold…." Glover pointed to the north, where the coast and mountains met. "Tell 'em the Councilor will offer clemency if they get Damphall Mine back from the reavers. I'll talk to him, try to make it happen as promised."
Gods, if they could get the iron mine back he suspected Adril might just smile. Truth was, he didn't know if an iron mine, no matter its size, would be enough to get Adril to grant clemency, but it was better than doing nothing.
"Khajiit will sing that song to them, and hope that they listen." He crossed his arms and his ears flicked flat against his head. "Tall order, as one of them is aggressively stupid."
"Most reavers are. That's often why they're reavers."
"Fair point." The cat shrugged. "Though… Khajiit thinks he can help shore up your 'talking' to the Councilor." He reached into the knapsack he carried with him, and produced an exquisitely bound copy of the Lusty Argonian Maid.
--
Wreck of the Strident Squall
Reaver Nenya
If her parents could see her, they would actually express emotions. Possibly mild annoyance. From the warm Summerset Isles to the half-frozen Solstheim, from sprawling mansions to a half-sunk human ship. From the head of a storied sellsword company to guarding a Khajiit on a boat.
They only had one working boat, and with burnt spriggans still out on their 'lawn' they had to take trips to get the gang out of the ship to the mine.
Farri had been sent to Raven Rock to sell what loot they had, and came back with an opportunity. He'd found more amulets of the East Empire Company in town, and heard there was an offer of clemency if they helped take Damphall back.
Apparently one of the books on the ship belonged to the Second Councilor's wife. Farri had taken the book to her, and gotten something adjacent to a guarantee.
If it went well, and if Golven didn't screw it all up, they would be outlaws no longer.
Enough gold to get a house in town, or better yet a boat to the mainland, was worth killing some cave dwellers. Nenya had been a firm vote in favor, along with all the junior gang members.
Nenya and their new member sat in the boat as Hakar paddled them the long way to Damphall.
"This won't be easy," Hakar said as they passed around the Skaal monument west of Raven Rock. "Damphall is high in the mountains. If they're smart, they have archers watching the path."
"Khajiit doesn't think they're smart. He knows the boss of the gang has killed several of his own men." Farri said as he steadied himself in the boat.
Nenya frowned, and shifted her new weapon on her belt. The scimitar Farri had found was much better than the iron axe she had before.
"How do you know that," she asked and leaned forward.
Farri's ears flattened, and he floundered for an answer to his obvious lie. "Clairvoyance, it lets Khajiit learn some things from far away."
He was bullshitting her. It was obvious he was acting as the one with the answers, probably what he'd been expected to do in lockup. But they arrived at the shore where the others has been dropped off before she could itemize a list of how the cat bullshitted her.
The boss and Golven were at the base of the path up into the mountains, the boss covered with a cloak and Golven hidden behind a rock with his bow drawn.
She and Hakar exited the boat promptly as soon as they hit the shore, but Farri was more ungainly. She had to reach back and grab the cat once he fell over the wrong side, into the water.
"Briras has gone scouting," the boss said without a turn or other acknowledgment. "Farri, distribute poisons."
The Khajiit wrung some water out of his robes, and passed murky green poisons to Hakar and Golven. "Sedatives, to make targets lethargic and sleepy," he explained. Then he passed Nenya a grey one. "Paralytic, to lock down limbs in a fight."
"Much appreciated," Hakar responded and began to dip his arrows in the poison.
"Hopefully it'll last us," Nenya added and ran several drops down the edge of her scimitar. She also applied some to the spikes on her targe, since she would bash with it often.
"Hmph," Golven snorted and pocketed his vial. "If it works, I'll keep it in reserve."
"Don't bet a scuttlehead," the boss sighed and shook his head. "If this works, we'll be getting a chance off this rock, you know."
"Maybe. Morvayn is all about that honor crap, I don't see him signing off on this." Golven looked up the path and scowled. "You shoulda let me scout it out, the n'wah probably got hisself caught."
Without warning, the boss balled one hand into a fist, lifted it high and brought it down square on the crown of Golven's head. "The young'ins have to learn sometime, old man. Stop being a fetcher."
Nenya smiled at the sight of Golven hunched over with his hands on his his head. After the fetcher had tried to shoot her when she was out fishing a month ago, she had taken to enjoy his pain. As she looked up at the mountain, she saw a distant blob vaguely colored like Briras descend the slope.
"Boss," she asked in a whisper. "Ain't this gang headed up by Adives? Vortisi's boy?" She jerked her head toward the south, where Vortisi's camp in Bloodskal Barrow lay. They had to pass far from the shore to avoid being seen by their watch.
"It is," the boss responded and shook his Golven-hitting hand like he'd heard himself on the fetcher's skull. "Adives is a scuttlehead, taking Raven Rock's only iron mine. Either the Redoran Guard or another gang would break down his door to have it."
"Or Rieklings," Farri added and pointed northward. "They have a camp not too far that way, and already took Broken Tusk Mine even higher in the mountains."
Nenya looked to the north, just in case, and marveled at the difference she saw. Solstheim on the side away from Red Mountain was frozen, white, every bit as cold as she'd been led to believe. She could see actual icebergs in the waters, all but impossible in the south. However, as she strained her eyes she could vaguely make out some sign of buildings on the coast. So Farri was at least not bullshitting on that count.
Briras appeared properly on the slope after a few minutes, crouched and shivering. His fur armor lacked a shirt, which made for good viewing in warmer conditions and a terrible decision in colder ones. "They only got one sentry on the door," he announced with glee. "I got 'em in the neck, and dragged the body away."
"See?!" Golven snapped, one hand on his head and the other pointed at Briras. "Scout, we tell him! Kill a sentry, he does."
The boss brandished his fist at Golven again, to get the fetcher to shut his mouth. "Briras, we don't know if their rotation is soon, or if there are other ways into the mine," he explained calmly. "We gotta get up there quick-like. Nenya, on point with me. Farri, back of the pack."
Nenya drew her scimitar, the edge red with poison, and crouch-walked up the slope alongside the boss. It was time to get down to business.
---
Guys, you can't send archers to go scouting and expect them not to make use of their 3x sneak attack modifier. That's unreasonable, and Boethia would be so disappointed.
You wouldn't want Boethia to be disappointed, would you?
---
Wreck of the Strident Squall
Reaver Hakar
Hakar hadn't had good clams in years -- not since he left Dawnstar. He was the first one to try the clam chowder, as none of the Dunmer had so much as seen the milky, buttery soup. One spoonful, and he was back home.
His pa had been a fisherman, brought pearls and clams home for Hakar's ma. Ma had worked at the tavern, so she knew how to cook hearty food to shield against the frigid cold. When Hakar had that soup, he could forget about the ash, the dark elves, and robbing people for money.
"The only thing that could make this better," Hakar said as the Dunmer in his crew waited for his verdict, "would be some mead to go with it. Give it a try."
Farri had been busy keeping the chowder in the pot stirred to avoid burns, but the cat smiled at Hakar's praise.
One by one, the Dunmer grabbed bowls of chowder and dug in. Even the boss seemed less stiff about the whole thing -- it was almost like the soup had given him a bit more bend in his joints.
"I didn't know you could cook clams like this," Nenya announced after she'd tried some chowder. "Where'd you learn to cook?"
"Farri learned at the mine, up north." The cat pointed north, toward Mount Mosering, then returned to stirring.
Golven leaned forward, a bowl of chowder in his hand but uneaten at the time. "Wait… there's a working mine up there?"
"There are working mines, or potential mines, all over Solstheim." Farri shrugged. "Damphall, Broken Tusk… plenty of gems and ore to mine."
Hakar paused with a spoon of chowder in his mouth as he looked around at the rest of the crew. Nenya and Briras were confused, the boss was taken aback, and he caught Golven in the midst of an eye roll.
"Just north of Raven Rock Khajiit knows there is gem geodes, and gold veins near the surface." The cat tapped some clam chunks off the spoon, and kept stirring. "White Ridge Barrow has so many ruby veins."
"Pfeh," Golven scoffed and waved his hand with a disdainful face. "Like an animal would know anything about that."
"Khajiit worked in a mine for twelve years, he knows his minerals." The cat poured himself a bowl, and sat down between Hakar and Briras.
Hakar thought the discussion was done, and dug into his chowder with gusto. He didn't think Farri would ever get Golven to show basic decency -- Golven was too securely attached to the boss to face reprisals.
"You say there's gold and gems north of Raven Rock?" The boss asked with clear interest.
Farri nodded, and ate some chowder. "Mhm. Khajiit also knows lots of places to get stahlrim. Strong as ebony, but lighter." His ears flicked to the sides and his one eye half-lidded itself. "Hours of grinding good for something, I suppose." The last sentence was muttered, only Hakar and Briras seemed to hear it.
"Stahlrim?"
Hakar blinked, then turned to the boss. "Um. Enchanted ice, supposed to be stronger than metal. Ancient Nords used it to encase their dead so necromancers couldn't get at them, and made stuff from it."
The boss had his helmet up to eat, which let Hakar see the look of a scheme building in his mind. "And… where would the closest source of stahlrim be?"
Golven scoffed, and shoved the boss by the shoulder. "You ain't seriously thinking this fetcher knows what he's talking about?"
The boss shoved him back. "Hush up. I asked a question."
Farri ate another spoonful of chowder and considered. "Kolbjorn barrow -- buried under multiple tonnes of ash and rubble. Next closest is the Raven Rock mine and Bloodskal Barrow junction."
"Alright, how does the n'wah know that?" Golven gestured to the cat with his spoon. "Hmm? Think on that."
"Khajiit has spell, Clairvoyance." He held up his hand, where a barely-visible orb of magicka formed. "Shows you where you want to go, or what you want to find." Farri's ears were pinned back, clearly ready to fight Golven if the mer didn't let up.
That seemed to satisfy the boss, who held up his hand to silence Golven when next he opened his mouth. "Right. It's something we can maybe use as leverage. Or pursue on our own." He turned to face the gap in the fence. "When we don't have to deal with rowdy neighbors."
Golven had nothing but daggers for the lot of them. Oddly, he also had daggers for the boss.
"If gold is in desperate need, Khajiit knows of a merchant in Raven Rock who will buy pendants with the East Empire Company logo on them." Farri spooned himself a hefty chunk of clam meat, and let the boss sit on that before he continued. "Khajiit saw that there is one in the ship. Easy money, yes?"
"I'll eat to that." Hakar raised his bowl as if it were mead flagon, which prompted the other junior gang members to do the same.
--
Raven Rock
Shift Lead Dravynea
Raven Rock was a town that died a little more every day. What industry they had was from people outside the town that came in. Tel Mithryn's staff who spent Telvanni money on goods, and Highpoint Tower Miners who brought back meager gems and ore.
Since Damphall Mine had been taken over by reavers, the flow of iron ore to the town was all but stopped. Without iron, the orichalcum Dravynea and her boys brought back was basically useless. Which meant the only meaningful sales she made on behalf of the mine was what gold they could mine and the gemstones. Luxury goods, in a town that lacked basic necessities.
Dravynea sold what she could, for as much as she could, and sat at a table in the local tavern to try and figure out how she could pay her crew, herself, and still get some profit for Renden at the mine.
The Retching Netch was like most of the traditional Dunmer buildings in Raven Rock, a beetle-like structure on the surface where the fireplace and cooking would be done, then the rest of the building belowground. The cold soil of Solstheim underneath all the ash helped keep their homes temperate compared to the hot ashy air outside.
Dravynea sat at a table, her eyes locked on the purse she had with her, and hoped that the coins inside would add up to more if she counted them one more time. It was not so.
She covered her face with one hand, and held onto her purse in a vice grip with the other. No one would rob her while she dealt with reality.
If it didn't cost a hundred gold to ask the temple for a blessing from the Reclamations, she would have gone -- the Good Daedra were all she had to turn to.
She felt the gold through the bag, and sighed. It seemed that the time to move on had finally come. With the Redoran Guard so few that they couldn't project their power outside of Raven Rock, there was next to no chance they'd retake Damphall. Even if they did, the iron was mostly used by the town itself.
Solstheim seemed to have entered a death spiral, and there wasn't much anyone could do for it.
The ship from Windhelm in Skyrim would arrive in a couple days -- she had that long to send a letter to Renden to announce her departure, and to convince as many of her crew to come with her as she could.
But where to go, she wondered. Windhelm didn't have many mines -- but there were good mines in Skyrim. Kynesgrove, Darkwater Crossing, and those competing mines in Dawnstar to name a few.
She happened to glance at the bar to see the owner, Geldis, speak with a short Khajiit. For a moment, she thought it must be Farri -- but a closer look had her reconsider. That one was heavily scarred -- missing an eye and part of an ear on the same side most notably. Farri didn't so much as have a burn scar -- he'd been liberal with healing potions and the Healing spell specifically for that purpose.
How odd, for there to be two Dagi Khajiit on Solstheim, though.
The cat caught her looking, and perked his ears up -- perhaps he thought her interested.
Dravynea looked away, and didn't pay the stranger any more mind. She had to figure out her next move.
A clink on the table prompted her to look up. There was a sujama urn she didn't recall ordering, right next to her hand, and the cat hurriedly walked to the stairs. Maybe the cat had only been interested in passing out drinks, she considered, and popped the cork to drink.
Geldis had done it again, another fabulous concoction.
--
Raven Rock
Glover Mallory
Gods, did he hate working orichalchum, it was such a temperamental ore and he simply didn't have the skill to work it without iron. If he'd studied the ore like Orcs did, he could make it stronger than steel and half as heavy. But he couldn't.
Glover didn't like to admit a gap in his skill, he was pretty proud, so the fact that only gold and orichalchum came to him for smelting annoyed him. It left him in a foul mood, and terse with what few customers he had.
"Excuse, please? This one would speak with you."
Glover sighed at the sound of an accented and third-person voice. A Khajiit. What in Oblivion was one of them even doing on Solstheim? He kept his back to the voice, and made a show of fiddling with his smelter. "A bit busy right now, come back tomorrow."
Orichalcum needed a low heat for a long period of time to melt evenly, so Glover could easily walk away from it. But screw dealing with customers.
"Well Khajiit wanted to return Mallory's very nice pickaxe, but if he doesn't want it…."
That got Glover to turn around, then look down slightly. A short Khajiit, lynx-like but with scars most Nords would envy, held his weathered and carved stone ancient Nord pickaxe out for him. The little guy was dressed in black robes, like most back-alley alchemists from Riften.
"How did you…?"
"Khajiit heard Imperial brag about having it, and saw the shadowmark on your door." The cat gestured with his head toward the doorway to Glover's house. "He thought he could do a favor for a man of the Guild."
Like the spring thaw, the sour mood Glover was in melted away. He was suddenly all smiles, and took the axe without issue. "Much appreciated. I'm retired from the Guild, but glad to see it's going strong." He looked the young'in up and down. "You're… not exactly dressed for the work, though."
The Khajiit shook his head. "No. Khajiit just got out of long prison sentence. Doing… odd jobs to get feet under him." The cat reached into a knapsack and pulled out a stoppered urn. "Speaking of which, Geldis pays this one to distribute latest sujama drink. Is very good." The Khajiit sing-songed the last part, and held the urn out temptingly.
"Don't have to put the charm on me. Geldis' sujama is too good to pass up free." Glover took the sujama urn, and walked to his workbench to lay both items down. "Glover Mallory, if you ran with the Guild you probably know my brother Delvin."
"Farri, this one is unhappy to report that Vex hasn't nailed Delvin to the Flagon wall like she promises." The newly introduced Khajiit was flippant on the subject.
Something didn't add up. Glover knew the name Farri -- miners from Highpoint Tower talked about a Khajiit by that name sometime. From what Glover understood, the Farri they spoke of had arrived on Solstheim a boy, and spent his whole life a prisoner. But the Khajiit he looked at appeared to have been on the wrong end of a Dwemer spinning-blade trap more than once.
"Well, there's always next year." Glover shrugged, his suspicions hidden by years of Guild training. "Brynjolf still running things?"
Farri looked up at him with his one eye narrowed. "Hmm… no. Brynjolf plays the part of a conman, to fleece fools. Mercer and Maven run things, still."
That was all true from when Glover left Riften, but he didn't know how the Khajiit could know it. "Sorry, mind must be slipping in old age." He shrugged, played it off like he'd slipped up. "Thanks for the sujama and getting my pickaxe back, is there something I can do for you?"
The cat glanced around, and spoke much softer. "Khajiit would like a Guild perspective. Is Raven Rock going to last the year?"
Glover took a deep breath, looked around the city at empty buildings and dejected dark elves, then let his breath out. "I'm not sure how it's lasted this long. Basically the only thing keeping this place going is the Serevin family."
Farri considered that, and looked around. "House Redoran gives you no trouble?"
"I get their instincts itching just being around them, but I'm the only blacksmith left. They don't have much choice."
"No threats of slapping bracers on you and making you work for free?"
Glover's face darkened as he remembered the early days of his time in Morrowind. "They did, a long while ago. But Veleth took over the Guard, and put a stop to that kind of talk. Man's a stick in the mud, but doesn't hold slaving very highly." He shook his head, to clear the old memories out. "So… where you staying? Retching Netch until a boat comes?"
"Khajiit stays with some reavers outside the city." Farri shrugged. "He finds them adorably pathetic, maybe useful -- they seem open to paying their bounties and coming back to the city."
Glover nodded -- as that tracked with his understanding of the cat's story so far. He'd been released, and automatically went to the closest Guild equivalent, in search of familiarity. "Hmm. Well, if they want that account squared without needing to fork over a small mountain of gold…." Glover pointed to the north, where the coast and mountains met. "Tell 'em the Councilor will offer clemency if they get Damphall Mine back from the reavers. I'll talk to him, try to make it happen as promised."
Gods, if they could get the iron mine back he suspected Adril might just smile. Truth was, he didn't know if an iron mine, no matter its size, would be enough to get Adril to grant clemency, but it was better than doing nothing.
"Khajiit will sing that song to them, and hope that they listen." He crossed his arms and his ears flicked flat against his head. "Tall order, as one of them is aggressively stupid."
"Most reavers are. That's often why they're reavers."
"Fair point." The cat shrugged. "Though… Khajiit thinks he can help shore up your 'talking' to the Councilor." He reached into the knapsack he carried with him, and produced an exquisitely bound copy of the Lusty Argonian Maid.
--
Wreck of the Strident Squall
Reaver Nenya
If her parents could see her, they would actually express emotions. Possibly mild annoyance. From the warm Summerset Isles to the half-frozen Solstheim, from sprawling mansions to a half-sunk human ship. From the head of a storied sellsword company to guarding a Khajiit on a boat.
They only had one working boat, and with burnt spriggans still out on their 'lawn' they had to take trips to get the gang out of the ship to the mine.
Farri had been sent to Raven Rock to sell what loot they had, and came back with an opportunity. He'd found more amulets of the East Empire Company in town, and heard there was an offer of clemency if they helped take Damphall back.
Apparently one of the books on the ship belonged to the Second Councilor's wife. Farri had taken the book to her, and gotten something adjacent to a guarantee.
If it went well, and if Golven didn't screw it all up, they would be outlaws no longer.
Enough gold to get a house in town, or better yet a boat to the mainland, was worth killing some cave dwellers. Nenya had been a firm vote in favor, along with all the junior gang members.
Nenya and their new member sat in the boat as Hakar paddled them the long way to Damphall.
"This won't be easy," Hakar said as they passed around the Skaal monument west of Raven Rock. "Damphall is high in the mountains. If they're smart, they have archers watching the path."
"Khajiit doesn't think they're smart. He knows the boss of the gang has killed several of his own men." Farri said as he steadied himself in the boat.
Nenya frowned, and shifted her new weapon on her belt. The scimitar Farri had found was much better than the iron axe she had before.
"How do you know that," she asked and leaned forward.
Farri's ears flattened, and he floundered for an answer to his obvious lie. "Clairvoyance, it lets Khajiit learn some things from far away."
He was bullshitting her. It was obvious he was acting as the one with the answers, probably what he'd been expected to do in lockup. But they arrived at the shore where the others has been dropped off before she could itemize a list of how the cat bullshitted her.
The boss and Golven were at the base of the path up into the mountains, the boss covered with a cloak and Golven hidden behind a rock with his bow drawn.
She and Hakar exited the boat promptly as soon as they hit the shore, but Farri was more ungainly. She had to reach back and grab the cat once he fell over the wrong side, into the water.
"Briras has gone scouting," the boss said without a turn or other acknowledgment. "Farri, distribute poisons."
The Khajiit wrung some water out of his robes, and passed murky green poisons to Hakar and Golven. "Sedatives, to make targets lethargic and sleepy," he explained. Then he passed Nenya a grey one. "Paralytic, to lock down limbs in a fight."
"Much appreciated," Hakar responded and began to dip his arrows in the poison.
"Hopefully it'll last us," Nenya added and ran several drops down the edge of her scimitar. She also applied some to the spikes on her targe, since she would bash with it often.
"Hmph," Golven snorted and pocketed his vial. "If it works, I'll keep it in reserve."
"Don't bet a scuttlehead," the boss sighed and shook his head. "If this works, we'll be getting a chance off this rock, you know."
"Maybe. Morvayn is all about that honor crap, I don't see him signing off on this." Golven looked up the path and scowled. "You shoulda let me scout it out, the n'wah probably got hisself caught."
Without warning, the boss balled one hand into a fist, lifted it high and brought it down square on the crown of Golven's head. "The young'ins have to learn sometime, old man. Stop being a fetcher."
Nenya smiled at the sight of Golven hunched over with his hands on his his head. After the fetcher had tried to shoot her when she was out fishing a month ago, she had taken to enjoy his pain. As she looked up at the mountain, she saw a distant blob vaguely colored like Briras descend the slope.
"Boss," she asked in a whisper. "Ain't this gang headed up by Adives? Vortisi's boy?" She jerked her head toward the south, where Vortisi's camp in Bloodskal Barrow lay. They had to pass far from the shore to avoid being seen by their watch.
"It is," the boss responded and shook his Golven-hitting hand like he'd heard himself on the fetcher's skull. "Adives is a scuttlehead, taking Raven Rock's only iron mine. Either the Redoran Guard or another gang would break down his door to have it."
"Or Rieklings," Farri added and pointed northward. "They have a camp not too far that way, and already took Broken Tusk Mine even higher in the mountains."
Nenya looked to the north, just in case, and marveled at the difference she saw. Solstheim on the side away from Red Mountain was frozen, white, every bit as cold as she'd been led to believe. She could see actual icebergs in the waters, all but impossible in the south. However, as she strained her eyes she could vaguely make out some sign of buildings on the coast. So Farri was at least not bullshitting on that count.
Briras appeared properly on the slope after a few minutes, crouched and shivering. His fur armor lacked a shirt, which made for good viewing in warmer conditions and a terrible decision in colder ones. "They only got one sentry on the door," he announced with glee. "I got 'em in the neck, and dragged the body away."
"See?!" Golven snapped, one hand on his head and the other pointed at Briras. "Scout, we tell him! Kill a sentry, he does."
The boss brandished his fist at Golven again, to get the fetcher to shut his mouth. "Briras, we don't know if their rotation is soon, or if there are other ways into the mine," he explained calmly. "We gotta get up there quick-like. Nenya, on point with me. Farri, back of the pack."
Nenya drew her scimitar, the edge red with poison, and crouch-walked up the slope alongside the boss. It was time to get down to business.
---
Guys, you can't send archers to go scouting and expect them not to make use of their 3x sneak attack modifier. That's unreasonable, and Boethia would be so disappointed.
You wouldn't want Boethia to be disappointed, would you?
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Ch 4
Chairtastic
Anything's a chair if you're brave enough
- Location
- Breakfast nook
- Pronouns
- He / Him / It
Chapter Four: Back Stabbing
Damphall Mine
Reaver Lord Fadar
Three men in the first chamber of the mine, none of them on alert, all of them stupid. When Fadar had seen one through a gap in a wooden wall, he signaled to the archers to set up. All three of the scuttlebugs were secure enough to chat -- about people floating of all things.
Fadar put an end to that with a spike of ice through the exposed fetcher's head. That got the other two to round the corner, and walk right into a firing line from his archers. All three were dead in less than two minutes.
Adives seemed to consider his reavers doing their jobs to be a stern suggestion, for all the discipline Fadar had seen thus far.
That ended when Fadar saw the second chamber. It was large, conical in shape with the base flooded. At first, Fadar thought there was a broken bridge on either side of the chamber, but he saw they were ramps on closer inspection.
He stood there, while his crew searched the dead and surrounding area behind him, utterly baffled by the architectural choices on display, when metal-on-metal noises made him look up. At the top of the chamber was a metal grate, surrounded by Nordic stonework, which had opened up to allow a dead mer's body to tumble through the air.
Fadar hadn't anticipated such a thing, so he just watched the corpse fall into the water. He blinked, stunned, and only shook himself out of it when he saw their Khajiit wade into the water. "Farri, what are you -- "
But the cat had taken a deep breath and dived into the water before Fadar could finish. His black robes allowed Fadar to get a vague idea of where the cat went -- he grabbed something and began to pull on it.
It was a body. A Dunmer lad, likely younger than any of Fadar's junior gang members.
"Farri, how did you -- "
Before Fadar could finish his sentence, the cat had dived down again. He returned with another body. This repeated one more time before Farri retrieved the fresh corpse from the surface.
Fadar stood and watched, as his gang finished up their looting and joined him at the ramp.
"Arright, more loot!" Golven rubbed his hands together eagerly and bent down to search the corpses.
"Arkay's ass," Nenya swore softly under her breath. "Farri was right about Adives killing his own men."
Fadar looked at her, then down at the relevant Khajiit. He hooked a hand under Farri's arm and hauled him from the water. "You knew about this?"
Farri looked at him with his lonely eye and shrugged. "He did. He knows things, Clairvoyance allows him to know these things." The cat yanked his arm free. "Such as he knews there's more down there." Again he dove into the water, deeper than before and stayed that way for a minute or two.
In that time, Golven kept looting the corpses for everything they had down to their skins. One of the corpses was a lady, and Golven had to be cracked on the head lest he behave like a pervert.
"You want to loot the dead of everything and their smallclothes, fine." Fadar hissed and pointed at the recently-struck Golven. "But necrophilia's still banned in this gang. Briras, help me haul these fetchers onto land." The two of them had all four corpses pulled from the water and laid in a pile with the three they had slain previously. "We'll give 'em a pyre before we go to Raven Rock."
Farri returned with a couple low-grade gems, some Imperial gold coins, and ivory statuettes.
They continued their advance into the mine. All the while, Fadar considered what he'd seen. The dead bodies in the water hadn't been cut up, they hadn't been bruised, there was no sign of a mark on them. So how had they died?
"Farri," he asked as he and Nenya led the group through the tunnels. "What killed those mer in the water?"
"Oh, the animal shit's a death priest now too?" Golven grumbled before Fadar brandished his fist.
The cat was silent a moment as they crouch-walked through the mine. "Corpses float, but those… they had sunk down, and remained so. Neutrally buoyant, not sinking, not rising. Something had to weigh them down. Khajiit did see they had burns on inside of mouths. Severe burns. And knows this mine has its own smelter."
Fadar connected the dots then, and noted how the corpse he'd watched fall had tumbled. Like the center of gravity was off. A corpse ought to have fallen straight down.
"Adives' been killing his reavers by making them drink iron…." Fadar wasn't squeamish, buts Mephala's massive mammaries was that a fucked thing to do to your own gang. "Right. Golven, hold back and douse your arrows. No backtalk," he waved his finger at the old mer. "Archers, aim to wound from now on." Fadar smirked to himself under his mask. "I'm willing to bet that Adives' gang don't like him killing them that way -- we might get some… recruits."
--
Damphall Mine
Reaver Briras
The boss was right. Adives' gang didn't like to be killed by drinking iron. They pretty much universally disliked the practice. They encountered nine more reavers in the gang, usually in groups of two as they passed through the mine. The archers got them to stop moving, Nenya supported the boss as he made his offer -- and often the other gang would listen.
"Morvayn is offering clemency for getting this mine back under Raven Rock control," the boss would calmly tell them. "Bounties nullified, crimes forgiven. There's eight corpses near the front of the mine, enough to convince the Redorans they took the mine -- with Adives added to the pile. You want in, or you think you can win this fight?"
That they were often outnumbered helped to sell the offer to them.
The mine was big Briras realized. Partially a Nordic ruin, partially a natural cavern, with iron ore veins fairly spread out. The one thing Briras noted as they walked through was that Farri had found a silver ore vein with his clairvoyance spell. Silver would do pretty good for turning Raven Rock around, along with the alleged gold and gem ore veins.
The tunnels they walked through were dug to get at ore but also to connect the initial water pit to the high room with the grate.
There gang had their first person turn them down on the offer of clemency as they approached the chamber Adives was holed up in.
Briras and the archers held the mer's focus while the boss talked to the fetcher.
"I… can't," the reaver said with hide armor of a lieutenant and a steel mace in hand. "My pa works for Vortisi. Word gets out I turned on Adives, he's dead for sure."
"You don't take the offer, lad, you're dead for sure," the boss fired back. "Your pa would want you to live, right?"
"Excuse, please? How would Vortisi know you turned on Adives?" Farri spoke up, from behind the archer's line. "This one says, take clemency, go to mainland, never look back. Is good, yes no?"
Fadar snapped and pointed at Farri, then turned to face the reaver. "There. A solution. Take it."
Briras intellectually understood that orthodox Dunmer valued family way more than the Khajiit he was raised with -- the difference a three hundred year lifespan made. But he couldn't wrap his head around wanting your parents to live so much that you let yourself die. He loved his parents dearly, but he'd done as they wished and left Senchal specifically to avoid death.
The reaver was conflicted for a long while, enough to take his eyes off them and lower his weapon. But ultimately, Golven took the decision out of his hands.
Hide armor mostly protected the center of the chest, with the ribs exposed. Golven, probably sick of waiting, took an arrow and loosed it into the reaver's ribs all in one quick motion.
"There, another solution," the old, mean mer said as the gang rounded on him.
"I said aim to wound, Golven," the boss growled. The boss picked him up by the shoulders and pushed him into the wall. "You've gone and wrecked any confidence the others had in us now!" He was the most angry Briras had ever seen at Golven. Usually, the boss would hit him once and be done with it.
"Oh come off it, the runt was going to stab us in the back first chance he got!"
Briras, however, noted something. While the reaver bled and gasped for air, Farri calmly trotted up to him.
"Khajiit can help with this," Farri told the dying Dunmer with a cheerful tone. "Keep breathing. It will sting, you will live. No talking." He forcibly shut the reaver's mouth when he tried to talk. "Lean on the wall. Like that, yes good." Farri felt around the wound, then went to the opposite side on the reaver's chest. "Alright, this will sting."
Briras' focus on the Khajiit drew Hakar and Nenya's focus too. Nenya blindly reached back to slap the boss on the shoulder.
" -- give you a direct fucking order, I expect it followed! You wanna give these youngin's the idea that they can ignore orders?!"
"I've been with you long enough to know what happens next! That fetcher would -- "
While that nonsense went on, and Nenya kept trying to get the boss' focus, Farri took a couple feathers from his alchemy bag and bit the tips off. He pulled the arrow out some, then shoved the feathers in.
"Khajiit knew life as medical ninja would be useful," he said as if it made sense, and pulled the arrow free with casual ease. All in less than five minutes. "Here, drink this. Regeneration potion -- Khajiit was saving for himself, but silly Dunmer can't dodge arrows yet." A dark red potion was put up to the reaver's lips and he was made to drink.
Labored breaths eased quickly. Pallid flesh grew to a healthy blue-grey. The open wound closed before their very eyes without even a scar.
"All good." Farri clapped the reaver on the shoulder, though he had to jump to reach the height, and gestured around the group. "Khajiit recommends exit, before Golven lines up a second shot. Yes no?"
The reaver looked at Farri like he was a saint sent from above, and ran as fast as he could down the tunnel.
Nenya's repeated slapping hadn't gotten the boss' attention, but the running reaver did. Golven was extremely upset at his kill walking away, and the boss was obviously confused.
Farri withstood their collective confusion and shrugged. "Pierced lung requires regeneration potion to fix. Is deep tissue, yes no?" He stepped aside and rested his hand on the chain which the reaver had guarded. "This opens the way to Adives. We likely have no more surprise, due to that shouting."
Briras looked from Farri, to the boss. With the bonemould helmet on, it was impossible to guage how the boss took that. Golven was definitely pissed, though.
"That was my kill you n'wah," Golven growled and went for another arrow. He was promptly punched in the jaw by the boss, so hard his head banged on the wall.
"So you were lying to me, just now?" The boss said, his tone firm. "It was so you could have a kill, not because you wanted the gang safe." The boss pointed at him, resolute. "When we get back… there'll be a reckoning. I'm sick of you just… killing for no reason! Making things harder on all of us!"
The boss all but dragged Golven over to Hakar and Briras, then shoved him to get in formation.
"Nenya and I go in first, we'll engage, you three will take shots at mages, archers, and whoever we're fighting in order of importance." Once everyone was in position, the boss signalled for Farri to pull the chain.
The stone wall slid down, a hidden doorway common in Nordic construction.
The boss and Nenya charged in -- the boss with a conjured scimitar, Nenya with a physical one. They entered into a large central chamber joined by two smaller ones at either end of the room. In the middle was the grate they had seen earlier in the mine, with a lever nearby. There was already a fresh corpse on the grate, and a reaver near the lever.
The melee fighters went at the reaver, who didn't last long due to surprise, but they were soon set upon by Adives.
Like the boss, Adives had a full set of bonemould armor. Unlike the boss, Adives fought with a golden greathammer shaped like an eagle's head. One swing, and Nenya's shield arm was busted -- there was no mistaking the crack followed by a scream.
From the chamber to the right of the door emerged an archer -- which Hakar and Briras swiftly engaged. They were in the chamber with arrows nocked, drawn, and loosed before the s'wit had his bow drawn. Hakar landed a shot in the mer's hand, and Briras got one in the opposite shoulder -- the sedatives on our arrow points did the rest.
He noticed, however, that Golven hadn't fired an arrow -- at least, not at the archer. True to form, Golven seemed to disobey orders, and had loosed an arrow in the direction of the boss' fight.
Nenya's busted arm hung limp, but she tried to slash at Adives while dodging his strikes. She didn't make headway -- bonemould was only really vulnerable to bludgeoning damage.
The boss kept Adives' attention most of the time, using ice magic and his sword to make himself seem like a greater threat -- but when Adives focused on him, the boss backed off. Only -- it seemed like he had begun to run out of stamina. His reaction time slowed visibly. At some point, he must have been hit, for he left blood drops in his wake as he moved.
Adives herded the boss toward the middle of the room, conspicuously going for the grate. The archers focused on him, in an attempt to get a lucky shot. Though their efforts were for naught -- Adives kept moving so that they could not easily hit his vulnerable joints.
The boss was shoved onto the grate by Adives, who broke off the attack once the boss tripped over the corpse. He clearly wanted to go for the lever, but he was stopped.
Farri had joined the fray and jumped onto the reaver lord's back with a hiss. Magic danced on his fingers as he clawed at Adives' armor -- deep scratch marks were left behind. It took only a few swipes for Farri's claws to come back red with Dunmeri blood.
Adives' bonemould armor fell to pieces as Farri slashed and swiped at him, the straps and connective leathers cut by furious claws. Once the breastplate fell away, it was easy to put some arrows in Adives, and slow him down.
Nenya came in with a swipe to Adives' torso, which prompted him to go stiff as a board. The paralytic poison on her sword worked fast.
Adives fell backward onto the boss and the corpse of the reaver. Briras took stock, he was almost out of arrows, Hakar seemed totally empty, but Golven had plenty. Nenya was in a bad way, which Farri picked up on.
The Khajiit slid out of the pile of bodies to help Nenya get her targe off. "Hold still, Farri will fix. It will sting, but be better." He took a potion from his satchel and passed it to Nenya. "Hold this." Then, when she was about to ask what it was, Farri held her broken arm and set the bone with a twist.
Briras had to cover his ears from Nenya's string of loud and oddly detailed cursing. She hit the ground, her bad arm stiff as she wriggled to somehow escape the terrible pain. Her lungs were so strong that her shouting, plus the echoes of the chamber, were painful to hear. While he covered his ears, he looked away -- he focused on the blue sky of northern Solstheim visible through a hole in the roof.
"Boss, you alright?" Hakar asked, a few feet away. "Shor's bones, Adives is heavy. Golven, Briras, come help me get the boss out from under this."
"Sure…." Golven muttered, and trudged off. "Sure."
Briras didn't hesitate to get away from Nenya's pain-fueled curses, or Farri's quick-paced healing. As Hakar and he rolled Adives off the boss, they moved to help him to his feet. Briras was behind the boss, and found something odd when he felt around for a good spot to grab and lift.
He found an arrow in the boss' back, in a joint between the neck and shoulder. An arrow from behind. When Adives' archer hadn't loosed one at all in the fight.
Briras looked up in confusion and saw Golven by the lever with a wicked look in his eye. Briras shoved Hakar, as it was the quicker option, and knew what would happen next.
Hakar stumbled to safety just as Golven flipped the switch, and grate fell away.
--
Damphall Mine
Reaver Hakar
A lot happened in scant few seconds. One moment, he was helping the boss with Briras, the next they were all gone. Hakar stood there, stunned, as the grate automatically closed itself shortly before a cacophany of splashes echoed from below.
"Stupid outlander," Golven grumbled as he put his hands on his hips. "I wanted a three-fer. Oh well." He bent down and pulled a knife from his boot. "Will have to do you the old fashioned way."
"Y… you… the boss!" Hakar turned from the grate to Golven, and back many times. "Briras…! You! The boss!"
"Aww, I broke the Nord's brain." Golven grinned, wicked and cruel. He spun the blade around and advanced on Hakar. "Real simple? I like killing, Fadar let me kill who I wanted. As soon as he stopped doing that, it was a countdown to find a convenient way to deal with him." Golven was peppy for an old mer, he skipped as reared his steel knife back to stab Hakar in the neck.
Hakar recognized it as the knife he thought he'd lost a month ago.
"Zun!"
A shockwave disturbed the air, passed alongside Hakar and struck Golven as he was about to stab into Hakar's neck. The knife in Golven's hand, the bow on his back, and the arrows in his quiver all crumbled to dust quicker than his eye could blink.
Both of them were quite surprised by the turn of events. Golven and Hakar watched the dust that had been the knife fall to the ground, stunned.
Which made it all the more surprising when Nenya, her broken arm in a black sling and her good arm holding a scimitar, calmly stepped around Hakar to slash at Golven's neck.
Hakar got to watch his would-be murderer's head come off from the sharpness of the blade. Which, of course, meant he got blood in his eyes.
"Gah! It burns!" He rubbed at his eyes and let himself process that Golven had killed the boss, tried to kill him, and then was killed in turn.
But what had destroyed Golven's weapons?
That word 'zun', it sounded odd. There was weight to it, power. But where would such power come from?
He opened his eyes, still blurred, to see a Farri's silhouette minus a sleeve pull the lever. The grate opened, and Farri dove into the chamber below without hesitation.
"Don't stand there and gawk!" Nenya shoulder checked him and made for the door. "We gotta get down there! Move!"
Hakar chased after Nenya, and the two of them raced through the mine past all Adives' old gang members toward that first chamber. More than one of them assumed that their gang had lost to Adives, but saw no pursuit.
After a lot of running, they got down to the flooded chamber, where they found some of Adives' gang with Briras on the ramp. The archer was waterlogged, but breathing and conscious.
"Where's the boss?!" Nenya demanded of him. She repeated the question when Hakar pointed out the alarming amount of blood in the water.
Briras pointed to the water, as a yellow blob rose from the depths.
A cloaked figure in full bonemould armor emerged from the water. Their head hung down, their arms and legs too. At first Hakar though it was the boss, crawling out. But no, as more was revealed, it was Farri -- carrying the boss on his back.
The boss was dumped onto the ramp, lifeless.
Farri took the time to roll him over and removed his helmet. The old mer had died with his eyes open just barely.
"Arrow to the carotid artery," Farri announced after an inspection of the corpse. "Cause of death, blood loss. Probably died before he hit the water."
The boss was dead. Hakar found himself on his arse as he processed that. The boss was dead.
"Wait," the mage from Adives' gang piped up. "If… our boss is dead, and your boss is dead… who's the boss now?"
"Do we need one?" Another from their gang asked. "The Councilor's offering clemency, right? We… we could just… go back to being strangers, I suppose?"
Hakar was in the midst of processing the boss' death, but he forced himself out of it. He could see how badly things could go. "We all trusted House Redoran to look out for us before we became reavers, and they threw us out," he griped. "We can't count on them never throwing us out again." He shakily stood. "I was a fisherman. I knew how to sail around the island to find ash-free fish, and they threw me out anyway."
Others in Adives' gang shared what they had been before being reavers. A blacksmith, miners, brewers, farmers, Redoran Guard -- they all had been part of the community, thrown out.
The consensus seemed to be: they needed a boss, and they ought to form a group -- lest they get caught with their arse hanging out again if the Redorans no longer needed them.
"Excuse, please." Farri spoke up to get everyone's attention. "This one is Khajiit, yes. But he knows where multiple valuable ores and gems can be found on Solstheim. Farri also arranged for this clemency in the first place." He shrugged. "Khajiit could make all y'all very rich. Khajiit could help all y'all… get revenge on House Redoran? Yes no?"
The thought of riches and revenge got Adives' gang interested. Hakar would be a liar to say it didn't get him interested too. Nenya and Briras were seemingly of one mind with Hakar.
"So, does Khajiit have the job?"
It was a shaky arrangement, both sides had lost allies to each other. But the promise of clemency, riches and revenge seemed to unite them well enough at the moment. Hakar certainly didn't see anything like Golven's wanton bloodlust among Adives' gang. Their gang, now.
A show of hands was called, and the decision was made. A little Khajiit he'd known for three days was the new boss -- a Reaver Lord.
---
Yes, our teeth and ambitions are bared!
Be prepared!
Damphall Mine
Reaver Lord Fadar
Three men in the first chamber of the mine, none of them on alert, all of them stupid. When Fadar had seen one through a gap in a wooden wall, he signaled to the archers to set up. All three of the scuttlebugs were secure enough to chat -- about people floating of all things.
Fadar put an end to that with a spike of ice through the exposed fetcher's head. That got the other two to round the corner, and walk right into a firing line from his archers. All three were dead in less than two minutes.
Adives seemed to consider his reavers doing their jobs to be a stern suggestion, for all the discipline Fadar had seen thus far.
That ended when Fadar saw the second chamber. It was large, conical in shape with the base flooded. At first, Fadar thought there was a broken bridge on either side of the chamber, but he saw they were ramps on closer inspection.
He stood there, while his crew searched the dead and surrounding area behind him, utterly baffled by the architectural choices on display, when metal-on-metal noises made him look up. At the top of the chamber was a metal grate, surrounded by Nordic stonework, which had opened up to allow a dead mer's body to tumble through the air.
Fadar hadn't anticipated such a thing, so he just watched the corpse fall into the water. He blinked, stunned, and only shook himself out of it when he saw their Khajiit wade into the water. "Farri, what are you -- "
But the cat had taken a deep breath and dived into the water before Fadar could finish. His black robes allowed Fadar to get a vague idea of where the cat went -- he grabbed something and began to pull on it.
It was a body. A Dunmer lad, likely younger than any of Fadar's junior gang members.
"Farri, how did you -- "
Before Fadar could finish his sentence, the cat had dived down again. He returned with another body. This repeated one more time before Farri retrieved the fresh corpse from the surface.
Fadar stood and watched, as his gang finished up their looting and joined him at the ramp.
"Arright, more loot!" Golven rubbed his hands together eagerly and bent down to search the corpses.
"Arkay's ass," Nenya swore softly under her breath. "Farri was right about Adives killing his own men."
Fadar looked at her, then down at the relevant Khajiit. He hooked a hand under Farri's arm and hauled him from the water. "You knew about this?"
Farri looked at him with his lonely eye and shrugged. "He did. He knows things, Clairvoyance allows him to know these things." The cat yanked his arm free. "Such as he knews there's more down there." Again he dove into the water, deeper than before and stayed that way for a minute or two.
In that time, Golven kept looting the corpses for everything they had down to their skins. One of the corpses was a lady, and Golven had to be cracked on the head lest he behave like a pervert.
"You want to loot the dead of everything and their smallclothes, fine." Fadar hissed and pointed at the recently-struck Golven. "But necrophilia's still banned in this gang. Briras, help me haul these fetchers onto land." The two of them had all four corpses pulled from the water and laid in a pile with the three they had slain previously. "We'll give 'em a pyre before we go to Raven Rock."
Farri returned with a couple low-grade gems, some Imperial gold coins, and ivory statuettes.
They continued their advance into the mine. All the while, Fadar considered what he'd seen. The dead bodies in the water hadn't been cut up, they hadn't been bruised, there was no sign of a mark on them. So how had they died?
"Farri," he asked as he and Nenya led the group through the tunnels. "What killed those mer in the water?"
"Oh, the animal shit's a death priest now too?" Golven grumbled before Fadar brandished his fist.
The cat was silent a moment as they crouch-walked through the mine. "Corpses float, but those… they had sunk down, and remained so. Neutrally buoyant, not sinking, not rising. Something had to weigh them down. Khajiit did see they had burns on inside of mouths. Severe burns. And knows this mine has its own smelter."
Fadar connected the dots then, and noted how the corpse he'd watched fall had tumbled. Like the center of gravity was off. A corpse ought to have fallen straight down.
"Adives' been killing his reavers by making them drink iron…." Fadar wasn't squeamish, buts Mephala's massive mammaries was that a fucked thing to do to your own gang. "Right. Golven, hold back and douse your arrows. No backtalk," he waved his finger at the old mer. "Archers, aim to wound from now on." Fadar smirked to himself under his mask. "I'm willing to bet that Adives' gang don't like him killing them that way -- we might get some… recruits."
--
Damphall Mine
Reaver Briras
The boss was right. Adives' gang didn't like to be killed by drinking iron. They pretty much universally disliked the practice. They encountered nine more reavers in the gang, usually in groups of two as they passed through the mine. The archers got them to stop moving, Nenya supported the boss as he made his offer -- and often the other gang would listen.
"Morvayn is offering clemency for getting this mine back under Raven Rock control," the boss would calmly tell them. "Bounties nullified, crimes forgiven. There's eight corpses near the front of the mine, enough to convince the Redorans they took the mine -- with Adives added to the pile. You want in, or you think you can win this fight?"
That they were often outnumbered helped to sell the offer to them.
The mine was big Briras realized. Partially a Nordic ruin, partially a natural cavern, with iron ore veins fairly spread out. The one thing Briras noted as they walked through was that Farri had found a silver ore vein with his clairvoyance spell. Silver would do pretty good for turning Raven Rock around, along with the alleged gold and gem ore veins.
The tunnels they walked through were dug to get at ore but also to connect the initial water pit to the high room with the grate.
There gang had their first person turn them down on the offer of clemency as they approached the chamber Adives was holed up in.
Briras and the archers held the mer's focus while the boss talked to the fetcher.
"I… can't," the reaver said with hide armor of a lieutenant and a steel mace in hand. "My pa works for Vortisi. Word gets out I turned on Adives, he's dead for sure."
"You don't take the offer, lad, you're dead for sure," the boss fired back. "Your pa would want you to live, right?"
"Excuse, please? How would Vortisi know you turned on Adives?" Farri spoke up, from behind the archer's line. "This one says, take clemency, go to mainland, never look back. Is good, yes no?"
Fadar snapped and pointed at Farri, then turned to face the reaver. "There. A solution. Take it."
Briras intellectually understood that orthodox Dunmer valued family way more than the Khajiit he was raised with -- the difference a three hundred year lifespan made. But he couldn't wrap his head around wanting your parents to live so much that you let yourself die. He loved his parents dearly, but he'd done as they wished and left Senchal specifically to avoid death.
The reaver was conflicted for a long while, enough to take his eyes off them and lower his weapon. But ultimately, Golven took the decision out of his hands.
Hide armor mostly protected the center of the chest, with the ribs exposed. Golven, probably sick of waiting, took an arrow and loosed it into the reaver's ribs all in one quick motion.
"There, another solution," the old, mean mer said as the gang rounded on him.
"I said aim to wound, Golven," the boss growled. The boss picked him up by the shoulders and pushed him into the wall. "You've gone and wrecked any confidence the others had in us now!" He was the most angry Briras had ever seen at Golven. Usually, the boss would hit him once and be done with it.
"Oh come off it, the runt was going to stab us in the back first chance he got!"
Briras, however, noted something. While the reaver bled and gasped for air, Farri calmly trotted up to him.
"Khajiit can help with this," Farri told the dying Dunmer with a cheerful tone. "Keep breathing. It will sting, you will live. No talking." He forcibly shut the reaver's mouth when he tried to talk. "Lean on the wall. Like that, yes good." Farri felt around the wound, then went to the opposite side on the reaver's chest. "Alright, this will sting."
Briras' focus on the Khajiit drew Hakar and Nenya's focus too. Nenya blindly reached back to slap the boss on the shoulder.
" -- give you a direct fucking order, I expect it followed! You wanna give these youngin's the idea that they can ignore orders?!"
"I've been with you long enough to know what happens next! That fetcher would -- "
While that nonsense went on, and Nenya kept trying to get the boss' focus, Farri took a couple feathers from his alchemy bag and bit the tips off. He pulled the arrow out some, then shoved the feathers in.
"Khajiit knew life as medical ninja would be useful," he said as if it made sense, and pulled the arrow free with casual ease. All in less than five minutes. "Here, drink this. Regeneration potion -- Khajiit was saving for himself, but silly Dunmer can't dodge arrows yet." A dark red potion was put up to the reaver's lips and he was made to drink.
Labored breaths eased quickly. Pallid flesh grew to a healthy blue-grey. The open wound closed before their very eyes without even a scar.
"All good." Farri clapped the reaver on the shoulder, though he had to jump to reach the height, and gestured around the group. "Khajiit recommends exit, before Golven lines up a second shot. Yes no?"
The reaver looked at Farri like he was a saint sent from above, and ran as fast as he could down the tunnel.
Nenya's repeated slapping hadn't gotten the boss' attention, but the running reaver did. Golven was extremely upset at his kill walking away, and the boss was obviously confused.
Farri withstood their collective confusion and shrugged. "Pierced lung requires regeneration potion to fix. Is deep tissue, yes no?" He stepped aside and rested his hand on the chain which the reaver had guarded. "This opens the way to Adives. We likely have no more surprise, due to that shouting."
Briras looked from Farri, to the boss. With the bonemould helmet on, it was impossible to guage how the boss took that. Golven was definitely pissed, though.
"That was my kill you n'wah," Golven growled and went for another arrow. He was promptly punched in the jaw by the boss, so hard his head banged on the wall.
"So you were lying to me, just now?" The boss said, his tone firm. "It was so you could have a kill, not because you wanted the gang safe." The boss pointed at him, resolute. "When we get back… there'll be a reckoning. I'm sick of you just… killing for no reason! Making things harder on all of us!"
The boss all but dragged Golven over to Hakar and Briras, then shoved him to get in formation.
"Nenya and I go in first, we'll engage, you three will take shots at mages, archers, and whoever we're fighting in order of importance." Once everyone was in position, the boss signalled for Farri to pull the chain.
The stone wall slid down, a hidden doorway common in Nordic construction.
The boss and Nenya charged in -- the boss with a conjured scimitar, Nenya with a physical one. They entered into a large central chamber joined by two smaller ones at either end of the room. In the middle was the grate they had seen earlier in the mine, with a lever nearby. There was already a fresh corpse on the grate, and a reaver near the lever.
The melee fighters went at the reaver, who didn't last long due to surprise, but they were soon set upon by Adives.
Like the boss, Adives had a full set of bonemould armor. Unlike the boss, Adives fought with a golden greathammer shaped like an eagle's head. One swing, and Nenya's shield arm was busted -- there was no mistaking the crack followed by a scream.
From the chamber to the right of the door emerged an archer -- which Hakar and Briras swiftly engaged. They were in the chamber with arrows nocked, drawn, and loosed before the s'wit had his bow drawn. Hakar landed a shot in the mer's hand, and Briras got one in the opposite shoulder -- the sedatives on our arrow points did the rest.
He noticed, however, that Golven hadn't fired an arrow -- at least, not at the archer. True to form, Golven seemed to disobey orders, and had loosed an arrow in the direction of the boss' fight.
Nenya's busted arm hung limp, but she tried to slash at Adives while dodging his strikes. She didn't make headway -- bonemould was only really vulnerable to bludgeoning damage.
The boss kept Adives' attention most of the time, using ice magic and his sword to make himself seem like a greater threat -- but when Adives focused on him, the boss backed off. Only -- it seemed like he had begun to run out of stamina. His reaction time slowed visibly. At some point, he must have been hit, for he left blood drops in his wake as he moved.
Adives herded the boss toward the middle of the room, conspicuously going for the grate. The archers focused on him, in an attempt to get a lucky shot. Though their efforts were for naught -- Adives kept moving so that they could not easily hit his vulnerable joints.
The boss was shoved onto the grate by Adives, who broke off the attack once the boss tripped over the corpse. He clearly wanted to go for the lever, but he was stopped.
Farri had joined the fray and jumped onto the reaver lord's back with a hiss. Magic danced on his fingers as he clawed at Adives' armor -- deep scratch marks were left behind. It took only a few swipes for Farri's claws to come back red with Dunmeri blood.
Adives' bonemould armor fell to pieces as Farri slashed and swiped at him, the straps and connective leathers cut by furious claws. Once the breastplate fell away, it was easy to put some arrows in Adives, and slow him down.
Nenya came in with a swipe to Adives' torso, which prompted him to go stiff as a board. The paralytic poison on her sword worked fast.
Adives fell backward onto the boss and the corpse of the reaver. Briras took stock, he was almost out of arrows, Hakar seemed totally empty, but Golven had plenty. Nenya was in a bad way, which Farri picked up on.
The Khajiit slid out of the pile of bodies to help Nenya get her targe off. "Hold still, Farri will fix. It will sting, but be better." He took a potion from his satchel and passed it to Nenya. "Hold this." Then, when she was about to ask what it was, Farri held her broken arm and set the bone with a twist.
Briras had to cover his ears from Nenya's string of loud and oddly detailed cursing. She hit the ground, her bad arm stiff as she wriggled to somehow escape the terrible pain. Her lungs were so strong that her shouting, plus the echoes of the chamber, were painful to hear. While he covered his ears, he looked away -- he focused on the blue sky of northern Solstheim visible through a hole in the roof.
"Boss, you alright?" Hakar asked, a few feet away. "Shor's bones, Adives is heavy. Golven, Briras, come help me get the boss out from under this."
"Sure…." Golven muttered, and trudged off. "Sure."
Briras didn't hesitate to get away from Nenya's pain-fueled curses, or Farri's quick-paced healing. As Hakar and he rolled Adives off the boss, they moved to help him to his feet. Briras was behind the boss, and found something odd when he felt around for a good spot to grab and lift.
He found an arrow in the boss' back, in a joint between the neck and shoulder. An arrow from behind. When Adives' archer hadn't loosed one at all in the fight.
Briras looked up in confusion and saw Golven by the lever with a wicked look in his eye. Briras shoved Hakar, as it was the quicker option, and knew what would happen next.
Hakar stumbled to safety just as Golven flipped the switch, and grate fell away.
--
Damphall Mine
Reaver Hakar
A lot happened in scant few seconds. One moment, he was helping the boss with Briras, the next they were all gone. Hakar stood there, stunned, as the grate automatically closed itself shortly before a cacophany of splashes echoed from below.
"Stupid outlander," Golven grumbled as he put his hands on his hips. "I wanted a three-fer. Oh well." He bent down and pulled a knife from his boot. "Will have to do you the old fashioned way."
"Y… you… the boss!" Hakar turned from the grate to Golven, and back many times. "Briras…! You! The boss!"
"Aww, I broke the Nord's brain." Golven grinned, wicked and cruel. He spun the blade around and advanced on Hakar. "Real simple? I like killing, Fadar let me kill who I wanted. As soon as he stopped doing that, it was a countdown to find a convenient way to deal with him." Golven was peppy for an old mer, he skipped as reared his steel knife back to stab Hakar in the neck.
Hakar recognized it as the knife he thought he'd lost a month ago.
"Zun!"
A shockwave disturbed the air, passed alongside Hakar and struck Golven as he was about to stab into Hakar's neck. The knife in Golven's hand, the bow on his back, and the arrows in his quiver all crumbled to dust quicker than his eye could blink.
Both of them were quite surprised by the turn of events. Golven and Hakar watched the dust that had been the knife fall to the ground, stunned.
Which made it all the more surprising when Nenya, her broken arm in a black sling and her good arm holding a scimitar, calmly stepped around Hakar to slash at Golven's neck.
Hakar got to watch his would-be murderer's head come off from the sharpness of the blade. Which, of course, meant he got blood in his eyes.
"Gah! It burns!" He rubbed at his eyes and let himself process that Golven had killed the boss, tried to kill him, and then was killed in turn.
But what had destroyed Golven's weapons?
That word 'zun', it sounded odd. There was weight to it, power. But where would such power come from?
He opened his eyes, still blurred, to see a Farri's silhouette minus a sleeve pull the lever. The grate opened, and Farri dove into the chamber below without hesitation.
"Don't stand there and gawk!" Nenya shoulder checked him and made for the door. "We gotta get down there! Move!"
Hakar chased after Nenya, and the two of them raced through the mine past all Adives' old gang members toward that first chamber. More than one of them assumed that their gang had lost to Adives, but saw no pursuit.
After a lot of running, they got down to the flooded chamber, where they found some of Adives' gang with Briras on the ramp. The archer was waterlogged, but breathing and conscious.
"Where's the boss?!" Nenya demanded of him. She repeated the question when Hakar pointed out the alarming amount of blood in the water.
Briras pointed to the water, as a yellow blob rose from the depths.
A cloaked figure in full bonemould armor emerged from the water. Their head hung down, their arms and legs too. At first Hakar though it was the boss, crawling out. But no, as more was revealed, it was Farri -- carrying the boss on his back.
The boss was dumped onto the ramp, lifeless.
Farri took the time to roll him over and removed his helmet. The old mer had died with his eyes open just barely.
"Arrow to the carotid artery," Farri announced after an inspection of the corpse. "Cause of death, blood loss. Probably died before he hit the water."
The boss was dead. Hakar found himself on his arse as he processed that. The boss was dead.
"Wait," the mage from Adives' gang piped up. "If… our boss is dead, and your boss is dead… who's the boss now?"
"Do we need one?" Another from their gang asked. "The Councilor's offering clemency, right? We… we could just… go back to being strangers, I suppose?"
Hakar was in the midst of processing the boss' death, but he forced himself out of it. He could see how badly things could go. "We all trusted House Redoran to look out for us before we became reavers, and they threw us out," he griped. "We can't count on them never throwing us out again." He shakily stood. "I was a fisherman. I knew how to sail around the island to find ash-free fish, and they threw me out anyway."
Others in Adives' gang shared what they had been before being reavers. A blacksmith, miners, brewers, farmers, Redoran Guard -- they all had been part of the community, thrown out.
The consensus seemed to be: they needed a boss, and they ought to form a group -- lest they get caught with their arse hanging out again if the Redorans no longer needed them.
"Excuse, please." Farri spoke up to get everyone's attention. "This one is Khajiit, yes. But he knows where multiple valuable ores and gems can be found on Solstheim. Farri also arranged for this clemency in the first place." He shrugged. "Khajiit could make all y'all very rich. Khajiit could help all y'all… get revenge on House Redoran? Yes no?"
The thought of riches and revenge got Adives' gang interested. Hakar would be a liar to say it didn't get him interested too. Nenya and Briras were seemingly of one mind with Hakar.
"So, does Khajiit have the job?"
It was a shaky arrangement, both sides had lost allies to each other. But the promise of clemency, riches and revenge seemed to unite them well enough at the moment. Hakar certainly didn't see anything like Golven's wanton bloodlust among Adives' gang. Their gang, now.
A show of hands was called, and the decision was made. A little Khajiit he'd known for three days was the new boss -- a Reaver Lord.
---
Yes, our teeth and ambitions are bared!
Be prepared!
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Ch 5
Chairtastic
Anything's a chair if you're brave enough
- Location
- Breakfast nook
- Pronouns
- He / Him / It
Chapter Five: Crimes Forgiving
---
Raven Rock
Captain Veleth
All day, Veleth had been in talks with Second Councilor Arano -- to try and ascertain why all the books of reaver bounties had been requested. The Councilor had been hard at work with the records, once pulled out of the Bulwark, so Veleth had to try and ambush him at meals.
Veleth was Redoran Guard -- the Captain of the Redoran Guard. He had an officer's pauldrons on his bonemould armor, and was one of the few soldiers skilled enough to use a two-handed weapon. His preferred armnament was a moonstone battleaxe he'd taken off an Aldmeri Dominion soldier in the Great War. Fine craftsmanship, a keen edge, and a hooked blade for multiple uses.
All this made a somewhat amusing scene as he hid in the Retching Netch for the Second Councilor to come down for dinner. If there were anyone in the Netch who could muster the strength to look up from their sujamma, they might have laughed.
And promptly gotten a fine, for the laughing.
Veleth waited, and watched the stairs. Soon enough he saw a Dunmer in brown quilted clothes with a sword at his side -- Adril Arano, Second Councilor of Solstheim. The mer seemed tired beyond reason, and slumped onto a barstool shortly after he arrived.
Once Adril had ordered some food and drink, Veleth came around the column he'd hidden behind to approach. The crunch of Veleth's boots had seemingly become familiar with the Second Councilor, for he sighed before Veleth even spoke.
"Captain, it's unseemly for a mer of your station to skulk about." Adril swiveled on the stool to turn and face Veleth with crossed arms.
"True, yer lordship." Veleth bowed his head to the Second Councilor. "But I have to do what I have to do to get answers." Veleth had a good feeling about the conversation thus far -- Adril had outright refused to talk prior.
"It's just as well, I was going to come fetch you after my meal." He gestured to the stool beside him. "Come, sit with me." Once Veleth had joined him at the bar, Adril spun around to lean on it. "My wife talked to the First Councilor this morning -- she put the idea of offering clemency to any reavers who helped to take back Damphall Mine."
Veleth's eyebrows and ears moved upward at the news. "Offering clemency? To those lowlifes?" He couldn't keep the incredulity out of his voice. "What gave her that fool notion?"
"Oblivion if I know." Adril shrugged. "But the First Councilor is receptive to the idea. …And I'm sorry to say, we are not in a position to be proud on the subject." The Second Councilor locked eyes with Veleth -- it was like his gaze were iron shackles that held Veleth in place. "Damphall is the only source of iron on Solstheim that we know of. If we're to live here, we need it."
Veleth's expression became a frown that deepened as Adril spoke. Once reavers took Bloodskal Barrow, it was dangerous to keep Damphall up and running. A reaver attack on the mine was inevitable, but if they had fortified the mine it would have opened up Raven Rock to attack instead. The western side of the city was by far the eaisest to attack, far away from the fortress wall -- the Bulwark -- and dedicated mostly to farmland.
"Even if we take it back, there's a good chance it won't be enough." Adril continued while Veleth pondered. "The reavers killed all Damphall's miners, we'd need more. And there's no glory in working in an iron mine." He laid his elbows on the bar and held his head in his hands. "Our only hope to keep the town alive right now is to get Damphall back, and the Redoran Guard can't do it."
"So our only hope is to allow reavers back into town so long as they do us a favor?" Veleth scoffed. "That won't end well, I can tell you that."
"Which is why I meant to collect you after dinner." Adril moved as his food had been delivered. "I saw boats sail by the harbor earlier -- I think some reavers have moved on the mine."
Veleth's eyes narrowed. "No way word spread so fast, it's not even been a day."
"Which is why I'm worried. Thank you Geldis, here you go." Adril paid for his food and drink -- baked ash hopper legs with ash yam soup. "With the unknown Ulen elements still in the town -- this could easily be the first step in their plot to murder the Councilor."
"You want me to send some men, scout out the mine?"
"No." Adril ate some soup before he responded. A solid minute or two of silence allowed them both to think. "My instincts tell me something's coming. Station some men at the western side of town. Keep a watch, and send for me if any group shows up with the expectation of clemency."
Veleth suddenly realized why the bounty information had been called for. "Councilor, you can't seriously have memorized the bounties of every reaver on Solstheim…."
"I can. And I have -- I have to inform the Councilor what exactly he's forgiving. Who he's allowing back into society." Adril took a bite of the ash hopper leg, clearly his favorite part of the meal. "We're desperate, but not we mustn't forget our honor."
"And if the Councilor balks at what he's forgiving?"
Adril looked at Veleth, and took another bite from the ash hopper leg. He did so slowly, so that the exoskeleton cracked and popped between his teeth just as bone would. The message was clear.
"Very good, Councilor."
--
En route to Raven Rock
Reaver Nenya
Her arm was on the mend, but it wouldn't be fixed before at least two days with health potions every day. Farri, the new boss, told her that if he could find the stuff to make another regeneration potion her arm could be fixed in a few minutes. One of the most common ingredients was garlic, and they had it in abundance at Damphall. Short of going to Tel Mithryn for emperor parasol moss, the next easiest ingredient to find would be Namira's rot mushrooms.
Or luna moth wings.
So while the group made their way down the coast, she and Farri often broke off to chase the nocturnal moths. They were quick and graceful.
Farri caught one before she did, and quickly put an end to the creature. The new gang members seemed ill at ease to see their boss pull wings off a moth's corpse, but Farri paid it no mind. "Two wings, two potions. Very nice."
"If I remember right, there's an alchemy kit in Raven Rock's apothecary," Nenya said, and scratched her head. "But that was years ago."
"Raven Rock ain't got an apothecary no more," one of the sword-and-boarders from Adives' gang pipped up. His name was Berol, if Nenya remembered rightly. They had met at the last reaver gathering. "The building collapsed, it got moved to outside a farm house on the west side of town."
"Hmm," Farri stroked his chin and narrowed his eye. "Will have to account for ash pollutant, then. This one thanks you for information." He turned his head to the south, ears up. "We near Bloodskal Barrow."
"This one would like to know why we go by Bloodskal Barrow at all." One of the two Khajiit in Adives' gang spoke up, the male of the duo -- grey with old age. Nenya didn't know his name, she only noted he was one of three non-Dunmer in the remnants of the gang. His eyes squinted, like he struggled to see. He was the tallest of the group, a full head taller than Hakar. "Vortisi's gang will surely cut us down, with their archers."
"With their two archers," the mage from Adives' gang clarified. "J'Saddha, we have two archers of our own, and two mages. They don't have any mages at all, and there's only seven people in the whole gang."
"We go this way because Bloodskal Barrow is the safest way to Raven Rock from here," Farri clarified with hands on his hips. "Go north? Frost trolls and Rieklings. South? Reavers and slaughterfish. We do not have enough boats for all of us, so, we walk. Is not difficult to choose, yes no?"
With the options presented thus, the 'yeses' won out over the 'nos'.
Around the bend was the barrow. From the shallow waters rose two stone towers -- bridged in places by the original stonework, and in others by wood. They led up to another bridge, which connected the towers to the tomb built into the cliffside. Their group was crouched down as they approached, to draw less attention.
"Vortisi's gang are all hardened thieves," Hakar whispered to the boss.
"He's right," the mage added. "We won't be able to get them to come to us -- we have to put a stop to 'em."
"Khajiit can manage that. Put arrows where he shoots." The cat looked at the towers, then whispered something. "Laas!" Shortly thereafter, the cat's eyes snapped to something he could see but Nenya couldn't, and fired a bolt of green magic through the window of a tower. Then another. He scurried forward, then fired off two such blasts toward the bridge.
Hakar and Briras clearly didn't have eyes on their targets, but all the same fired arrows where the boss had fired magic.
After that was done, Farri stood up and grinned. "The only ones left are in the tomb," he proclaimed.
Doubt was the order of the day for the gang, however. They cautiously approached the towers and worked their way up. It didn't take long to see why the boss was so confident. Four dead or dying mer were found -- two in the towers, two on the bridge. They all had a green sheen to them, and deep arrow wounds which bled badly.
"That's… horrifyingly genius," the mage muttered as the whole gang mustered on the bridge. "You used a calming spell to make them hold still while the archers shot them…. Then the spell kept them and their bodies from reducing blood loss."
"Illusion is not Khajiit's forte," Farri shrugged. "But he uses what he has. Yes no?" The cat turned to the tomb across the bridge. "Laas!" The boss' ears immediately drooped, and he held up a hand in the air. There was a barely-there orb of magic in his hand, that remained as he squeezed three distinct times. "Excuse, please." He turned back to look at the group, while he pointed inside. "Three in there are reavers. Two are not. Khajiit does not know what they are -- any ideas?"
Nenya turned to Adives' old gang members, her eyebrow arched.
"Vortisi may have hostages -- people she intended to ransom?" Berol suggested. "But there's no one on Solstheim with the coin to pay ransoms."
"No one ever accused Vortisi of thinking before she did things," the Argonian woman of the group piped up with a sour tone and crossed arms. "Remember when she kicked Verit out? Didn't think to make him leave Stormfang behind."
"What Khajiit hears is we kill reavers and leave non-reavers alone." Farri crossed his arms. "Who wants duty of watching them until the reavers are gone?"
Everyone except Farri looked to Nenya, with clear expectations.
"You think me being down an arm makes me any less capable of slapping your faces clean off?" Nenya rested her hand on the hilt of her scimitar. "Your Khajiit squint so much I'm half expecting them to be blind."
"Shor's bones, I'll do it." Hakar volunteered with a sigh. "Just try not to get hurt."
The long and short of three reavers versus twelve, with the element of surprise and mages to back them up, was not good.
Nenya felt conflicted when Vortisi fell dead in the tomb -- she was the third Reaver Lord to die that day, and the fourth to die that week. On the one hand, it was just how things went in the ashlands -- reavers killed each other. But on the other each gang had its own culture, history, traditions. It felt like wiping out a settlement in miniature.
All told, they spent maybe twenty minutes killing Vortisi's gang, then they were south-bound again with new guests.
An Altmer woman, and an Imperial man. As predicted, they'd been held as hostages, but had no hope of ransom as they were shipwrecked sailors. Everything they had went down with their ship.
Both of them were somewhat leery of the group, even though they were rescued and armed from their captor's stocks. They were outnumbered significantly, it was reasonable.
It didn't take long for the group to reach the road that went south to the Skaal monument, and east to Raven Rock. Once they reached the road, Farri addressed them.
"If House Redoran honors their promise, and grants clemency -- you will all be free. We will need a place to sleep, to live. Farri will make arrangements as needed -- he is open to ideas on what is desired for living, and work." The boss pointed off to each of them. "All the ones Khajiit sees here have skills to fight, and to make a life without fighting. What is their desire?"
No boss had actually asked them what they wanted before. As reavers, there wasn't a whole lot of choices to be made. Nenya and several others were leery of bringing up their revenge on House Redoran in front of their 'guests', so there was a mutual understanding not to bring it up.
"I've been fighting for almost a decade," Briras muttered with arms crossed. "I'd… I'd like to just be me again. Not all the time, mind. I still like the bow -- but I'm a merchant at heart. That's what I want to do."
The consensus seemed to be -- return to their lives before, without totally forgetting their fighting ability.
But for Nenya, there was only fighting in her past. "Fighting is all I have," she admitted to the group. "I was head of a mercenary band before… this. It's all I know how to do -- fight, and teach others to fight."
"Would you like to learn a new way?" Farri asked her with perked up ears.
"Maybe… after a while." She looked around at the group. "I don't mean to be rude, but this is all very new. We don't know if it'll last, yet."
"This one understands. He will ask you to follow him as he sorts out the… less pleasant parts of life, yes no?" Farri smiled at her, something which would have been cute if not for his many scars. "But otherwise… we will put our weapons down. For a time."
It seemed like Nenya had stepped into the 'second in command' position which Golven had previously occupied. With luck, she wouldn't become a bloodthirsty monster.
Or, rather, become more of one.
--
Raven Rock
Second Councilor Arano
Adril's instincts proved correct. Those boats they'd seen had been moving reavers to move on the mine -- for a sizable gang of them approached the town from the west in the night. The Redoran Guard Veleth had stationed to watch that side of town had run to inform them, mere moments before the First Councilor was about to go to bed.
The gods were sending them a message, Adril was sure of it.
While his wife went to bed, Adril collected the bounty information he'd requested earlier that day, and left with a group of four Redoran Guard and Captain Veleth. Even with his soldiering days long gone, Adril was more than sure he and the Redoran Guard could make short work of the rabble which had come to their town. If needed.
He approached the group with the Guard, well lit by torches, and kept an impartial face as he hauled a ledger under one arm.
"What business have you in Raven Rock, outlaws?" He spoke, clear and loud so that any proper citizen of the town nearby could hear and seek shelter.
From the group emerged a Khajiit -- one of their Dagi shapes. He was covered in scars, missing an eye, with a damaged ear, and wore black robes that only had one sleeve. To Adril's disgust, he noted the cat was barefoot as well.
"This one is leader of this gang," the Khajiit announced. "We have cleared Damphall Mine, and Bloodskal Barrow of the reavers that occupied them. We have two hostages, held at Bloodskal, to deliver safely." The leader, shortest of the bunch, looked over his shoulder and nodded. From the group and Imperial and Altmer emerged.
They were dressed in dirty clothes, but Adril knew there were no such bandits on their list. Imperials and high elves were a rarity in Morrowind at the best of times. Still, he made sure to make an appearance of his search of the ledger. "Names?" Once he had them, and confirmed they weren't on his list, he signalled them toward the town. "Please tell the tavern keeper to put you up for the night, on the city's tab. We will discuss your situation in the morning."
He waited for them to vanish into the town before he addressed the outlaws again. "Well? What other business have you?"
"This one heard tell of an offer of clemency for the group which returned the mine to Raven Rock, yes no?"
Adril pursed his lips and opened his ledger again. He flipped through pages, to give the outlaws some tension. If they couldn't be patient, they were too uncouth to be granted the offer -- and he would have fewer problems in the town. Alas, they kept their cool. "It would appear so." Adril snapped the ledger shut. "What proof do you have that the mine is free of its infestation?"
The gang had several beastfolk members, who most visibly showed disgust with Adril's choice of words.
But their leader was unphased. He produced a ring of keys from his one sleeve, and tossed them to Adril. "Keys of Damphall -- seal of House Redoran to prove."
Adril examined the keys -- and sure enough, there was the master key inscribed with House Redoran's seal on a flat medal beneath the hoop. On the back was the number assigned to Damphall. As much as he disliked it -- that was proof.
"Very good. Leave your names with me, and I will draw up the official paperwork of your clemency to send to Blacklight." Adril kept his professional tone despite how he hated the words he had to say. "You will be able to come and go in Raven Rock, but the mainland will consider you criminals still, until they receive the paperwork."
It also gave them more time to confirm they wouldn't permit rapists, heretics, or Hlaalus into society again.
Most of the names he looked up all had the usual spread for a reaver. Murder, banditry, theft, evading arrest. Often the crime that put them into the outlaw status was fraud -- they had taken on debt they couldn't pay, thus they were guilty of fraud. Many had their original debt owed by Mogrul, a rich soldier from the Great War who settled in Raven Rock to retire.
That would be a taxing conversation. More than likely, Mogrul would petition House Redoran to compensate him for his original losses from being defrauded by his borrowers.
But when it came to the leader of the group -- he found something odd. "Farri, you say?" Adril muttered as he examined the sheet on his ledger. "You're a convicted felon. Almost served your sentence, and then escaped on the last day."
That got the first meaningful reaction out of the one-eyed Khajiit. "Excuse, please? Escaped?"
"Quite. Renden from Highpoint Tower reported you had escaped shortly before he went to officially release you. Apparently Highpoint Tower isn't overly secure, as you've merely brought up their rate of prisoner escapes back to one hundred percent."
Farri's face became a snarl. "This one did not 'escape'. His contract was sold."
Adril rolled his eyes. "Contrary to popular belief, prisoners are not slaves." He tried to keep his voice free of condescension, but he'd heard it from so many unscrupulous people who tried to purchase the people in the Bulwark's jail -- it got annoying. "They cannot be sold, they cannot be killed without cause. Businesses volunteer to house, feed, clothe, and care for prisoners who work there for their sentences -- that is as close to slavery as it gets." Adril checked the ledger again. "Hrmph. We've already sent the compensation fee to Renden for your escape, that will be in an entirely different ledger -- ugh."
"Khajiit has a witness to prove he did not escape!" The cat pointed at him. "Shift Lead at Highpoint Tower Mine, Niyya, was there. She saw, and heard!"
"It hardly matters," Adril sighed with a clipped tone. "Your crime will be forgiven once the First Councilor signs the paperwork." He shook his head -- why were the short-lived races so excitable?
The cat looked at him, his expression the picture of hatred, then forced himself to calm down. "Fine. Farri will let it go."
Adril was so happy, he only barely noticed the short Khajiit had crossed his index and middle finger on one hand. An odd gesture, perhaps of some significance to the reavers -- but it was lost on Adril.
---
Yay! They're back in the only livable town legitimately worse than Windhelm! Huzzah!
---
Raven Rock
Captain Veleth
All day, Veleth had been in talks with Second Councilor Arano -- to try and ascertain why all the books of reaver bounties had been requested. The Councilor had been hard at work with the records, once pulled out of the Bulwark, so Veleth had to try and ambush him at meals.
Veleth was Redoran Guard -- the Captain of the Redoran Guard. He had an officer's pauldrons on his bonemould armor, and was one of the few soldiers skilled enough to use a two-handed weapon. His preferred armnament was a moonstone battleaxe he'd taken off an Aldmeri Dominion soldier in the Great War. Fine craftsmanship, a keen edge, and a hooked blade for multiple uses.
All this made a somewhat amusing scene as he hid in the Retching Netch for the Second Councilor to come down for dinner. If there were anyone in the Netch who could muster the strength to look up from their sujamma, they might have laughed.
And promptly gotten a fine, for the laughing.
Veleth waited, and watched the stairs. Soon enough he saw a Dunmer in brown quilted clothes with a sword at his side -- Adril Arano, Second Councilor of Solstheim. The mer seemed tired beyond reason, and slumped onto a barstool shortly after he arrived.
Once Adril had ordered some food and drink, Veleth came around the column he'd hidden behind to approach. The crunch of Veleth's boots had seemingly become familiar with the Second Councilor, for he sighed before Veleth even spoke.
"Captain, it's unseemly for a mer of your station to skulk about." Adril swiveled on the stool to turn and face Veleth with crossed arms.
"True, yer lordship." Veleth bowed his head to the Second Councilor. "But I have to do what I have to do to get answers." Veleth had a good feeling about the conversation thus far -- Adril had outright refused to talk prior.
"It's just as well, I was going to come fetch you after my meal." He gestured to the stool beside him. "Come, sit with me." Once Veleth had joined him at the bar, Adril spun around to lean on it. "My wife talked to the First Councilor this morning -- she put the idea of offering clemency to any reavers who helped to take back Damphall Mine."
Veleth's eyebrows and ears moved upward at the news. "Offering clemency? To those lowlifes?" He couldn't keep the incredulity out of his voice. "What gave her that fool notion?"
"Oblivion if I know." Adril shrugged. "But the First Councilor is receptive to the idea. …And I'm sorry to say, we are not in a position to be proud on the subject." The Second Councilor locked eyes with Veleth -- it was like his gaze were iron shackles that held Veleth in place. "Damphall is the only source of iron on Solstheim that we know of. If we're to live here, we need it."
Veleth's expression became a frown that deepened as Adril spoke. Once reavers took Bloodskal Barrow, it was dangerous to keep Damphall up and running. A reaver attack on the mine was inevitable, but if they had fortified the mine it would have opened up Raven Rock to attack instead. The western side of the city was by far the eaisest to attack, far away from the fortress wall -- the Bulwark -- and dedicated mostly to farmland.
"Even if we take it back, there's a good chance it won't be enough." Adril continued while Veleth pondered. "The reavers killed all Damphall's miners, we'd need more. And there's no glory in working in an iron mine." He laid his elbows on the bar and held his head in his hands. "Our only hope to keep the town alive right now is to get Damphall back, and the Redoran Guard can't do it."
"So our only hope is to allow reavers back into town so long as they do us a favor?" Veleth scoffed. "That won't end well, I can tell you that."
"Which is why I meant to collect you after dinner." Adril moved as his food had been delivered. "I saw boats sail by the harbor earlier -- I think some reavers have moved on the mine."
Veleth's eyes narrowed. "No way word spread so fast, it's not even been a day."
"Which is why I'm worried. Thank you Geldis, here you go." Adril paid for his food and drink -- baked ash hopper legs with ash yam soup. "With the unknown Ulen elements still in the town -- this could easily be the first step in their plot to murder the Councilor."
"You want me to send some men, scout out the mine?"
"No." Adril ate some soup before he responded. A solid minute or two of silence allowed them both to think. "My instincts tell me something's coming. Station some men at the western side of town. Keep a watch, and send for me if any group shows up with the expectation of clemency."
Veleth suddenly realized why the bounty information had been called for. "Councilor, you can't seriously have memorized the bounties of every reaver on Solstheim…."
"I can. And I have -- I have to inform the Councilor what exactly he's forgiving. Who he's allowing back into society." Adril took a bite of the ash hopper leg, clearly his favorite part of the meal. "We're desperate, but not we mustn't forget our honor."
"And if the Councilor balks at what he's forgiving?"
Adril looked at Veleth, and took another bite from the ash hopper leg. He did so slowly, so that the exoskeleton cracked and popped between his teeth just as bone would. The message was clear.
"Very good, Councilor."
--
En route to Raven Rock
Reaver Nenya
Her arm was on the mend, but it wouldn't be fixed before at least two days with health potions every day. Farri, the new boss, told her that if he could find the stuff to make another regeneration potion her arm could be fixed in a few minutes. One of the most common ingredients was garlic, and they had it in abundance at Damphall. Short of going to Tel Mithryn for emperor parasol moss, the next easiest ingredient to find would be Namira's rot mushrooms.
Or luna moth wings.
So while the group made their way down the coast, she and Farri often broke off to chase the nocturnal moths. They were quick and graceful.
Farri caught one before she did, and quickly put an end to the creature. The new gang members seemed ill at ease to see their boss pull wings off a moth's corpse, but Farri paid it no mind. "Two wings, two potions. Very nice."
"If I remember right, there's an alchemy kit in Raven Rock's apothecary," Nenya said, and scratched her head. "But that was years ago."
"Raven Rock ain't got an apothecary no more," one of the sword-and-boarders from Adives' gang pipped up. His name was Berol, if Nenya remembered rightly. They had met at the last reaver gathering. "The building collapsed, it got moved to outside a farm house on the west side of town."
"Hmm," Farri stroked his chin and narrowed his eye. "Will have to account for ash pollutant, then. This one thanks you for information." He turned his head to the south, ears up. "We near Bloodskal Barrow."
"This one would like to know why we go by Bloodskal Barrow at all." One of the two Khajiit in Adives' gang spoke up, the male of the duo -- grey with old age. Nenya didn't know his name, she only noted he was one of three non-Dunmer in the remnants of the gang. His eyes squinted, like he struggled to see. He was the tallest of the group, a full head taller than Hakar. "Vortisi's gang will surely cut us down, with their archers."
"With their two archers," the mage from Adives' gang clarified. "J'Saddha, we have two archers of our own, and two mages. They don't have any mages at all, and there's only seven people in the whole gang."
"We go this way because Bloodskal Barrow is the safest way to Raven Rock from here," Farri clarified with hands on his hips. "Go north? Frost trolls and Rieklings. South? Reavers and slaughterfish. We do not have enough boats for all of us, so, we walk. Is not difficult to choose, yes no?"
With the options presented thus, the 'yeses' won out over the 'nos'.
Around the bend was the barrow. From the shallow waters rose two stone towers -- bridged in places by the original stonework, and in others by wood. They led up to another bridge, which connected the towers to the tomb built into the cliffside. Their group was crouched down as they approached, to draw less attention.
"Vortisi's gang are all hardened thieves," Hakar whispered to the boss.
"He's right," the mage added. "We won't be able to get them to come to us -- we have to put a stop to 'em."
"Khajiit can manage that. Put arrows where he shoots." The cat looked at the towers, then whispered something. "Laas!" Shortly thereafter, the cat's eyes snapped to something he could see but Nenya couldn't, and fired a bolt of green magic through the window of a tower. Then another. He scurried forward, then fired off two such blasts toward the bridge.
Hakar and Briras clearly didn't have eyes on their targets, but all the same fired arrows where the boss had fired magic.
After that was done, Farri stood up and grinned. "The only ones left are in the tomb," he proclaimed.
Doubt was the order of the day for the gang, however. They cautiously approached the towers and worked their way up. It didn't take long to see why the boss was so confident. Four dead or dying mer were found -- two in the towers, two on the bridge. They all had a green sheen to them, and deep arrow wounds which bled badly.
"That's… horrifyingly genius," the mage muttered as the whole gang mustered on the bridge. "You used a calming spell to make them hold still while the archers shot them…. Then the spell kept them and their bodies from reducing blood loss."
"Illusion is not Khajiit's forte," Farri shrugged. "But he uses what he has. Yes no?" The cat turned to the tomb across the bridge. "Laas!" The boss' ears immediately drooped, and he held up a hand in the air. There was a barely-there orb of magic in his hand, that remained as he squeezed three distinct times. "Excuse, please." He turned back to look at the group, while he pointed inside. "Three in there are reavers. Two are not. Khajiit does not know what they are -- any ideas?"
Nenya turned to Adives' old gang members, her eyebrow arched.
"Vortisi may have hostages -- people she intended to ransom?" Berol suggested. "But there's no one on Solstheim with the coin to pay ransoms."
"No one ever accused Vortisi of thinking before she did things," the Argonian woman of the group piped up with a sour tone and crossed arms. "Remember when she kicked Verit out? Didn't think to make him leave Stormfang behind."
"What Khajiit hears is we kill reavers and leave non-reavers alone." Farri crossed his arms. "Who wants duty of watching them until the reavers are gone?"
Everyone except Farri looked to Nenya, with clear expectations.
"You think me being down an arm makes me any less capable of slapping your faces clean off?" Nenya rested her hand on the hilt of her scimitar. "Your Khajiit squint so much I'm half expecting them to be blind."
"Shor's bones, I'll do it." Hakar volunteered with a sigh. "Just try not to get hurt."
The long and short of three reavers versus twelve, with the element of surprise and mages to back them up, was not good.
Nenya felt conflicted when Vortisi fell dead in the tomb -- she was the third Reaver Lord to die that day, and the fourth to die that week. On the one hand, it was just how things went in the ashlands -- reavers killed each other. But on the other each gang had its own culture, history, traditions. It felt like wiping out a settlement in miniature.
All told, they spent maybe twenty minutes killing Vortisi's gang, then they were south-bound again with new guests.
An Altmer woman, and an Imperial man. As predicted, they'd been held as hostages, but had no hope of ransom as they were shipwrecked sailors. Everything they had went down with their ship.
Both of them were somewhat leery of the group, even though they were rescued and armed from their captor's stocks. They were outnumbered significantly, it was reasonable.
It didn't take long for the group to reach the road that went south to the Skaal monument, and east to Raven Rock. Once they reached the road, Farri addressed them.
"If House Redoran honors their promise, and grants clemency -- you will all be free. We will need a place to sleep, to live. Farri will make arrangements as needed -- he is open to ideas on what is desired for living, and work." The boss pointed off to each of them. "All the ones Khajiit sees here have skills to fight, and to make a life without fighting. What is their desire?"
No boss had actually asked them what they wanted before. As reavers, there wasn't a whole lot of choices to be made. Nenya and several others were leery of bringing up their revenge on House Redoran in front of their 'guests', so there was a mutual understanding not to bring it up.
"I've been fighting for almost a decade," Briras muttered with arms crossed. "I'd… I'd like to just be me again. Not all the time, mind. I still like the bow -- but I'm a merchant at heart. That's what I want to do."
The consensus seemed to be -- return to their lives before, without totally forgetting their fighting ability.
But for Nenya, there was only fighting in her past. "Fighting is all I have," she admitted to the group. "I was head of a mercenary band before… this. It's all I know how to do -- fight, and teach others to fight."
"Would you like to learn a new way?" Farri asked her with perked up ears.
"Maybe… after a while." She looked around at the group. "I don't mean to be rude, but this is all very new. We don't know if it'll last, yet."
"This one understands. He will ask you to follow him as he sorts out the… less pleasant parts of life, yes no?" Farri smiled at her, something which would have been cute if not for his many scars. "But otherwise… we will put our weapons down. For a time."
It seemed like Nenya had stepped into the 'second in command' position which Golven had previously occupied. With luck, she wouldn't become a bloodthirsty monster.
Or, rather, become more of one.
--
Raven Rock
Second Councilor Arano
Adril's instincts proved correct. Those boats they'd seen had been moving reavers to move on the mine -- for a sizable gang of them approached the town from the west in the night. The Redoran Guard Veleth had stationed to watch that side of town had run to inform them, mere moments before the First Councilor was about to go to bed.
The gods were sending them a message, Adril was sure of it.
While his wife went to bed, Adril collected the bounty information he'd requested earlier that day, and left with a group of four Redoran Guard and Captain Veleth. Even with his soldiering days long gone, Adril was more than sure he and the Redoran Guard could make short work of the rabble which had come to their town. If needed.
He approached the group with the Guard, well lit by torches, and kept an impartial face as he hauled a ledger under one arm.
"What business have you in Raven Rock, outlaws?" He spoke, clear and loud so that any proper citizen of the town nearby could hear and seek shelter.
From the group emerged a Khajiit -- one of their Dagi shapes. He was covered in scars, missing an eye, with a damaged ear, and wore black robes that only had one sleeve. To Adril's disgust, he noted the cat was barefoot as well.
"This one is leader of this gang," the Khajiit announced. "We have cleared Damphall Mine, and Bloodskal Barrow of the reavers that occupied them. We have two hostages, held at Bloodskal, to deliver safely." The leader, shortest of the bunch, looked over his shoulder and nodded. From the group and Imperial and Altmer emerged.
They were dressed in dirty clothes, but Adril knew there were no such bandits on their list. Imperials and high elves were a rarity in Morrowind at the best of times. Still, he made sure to make an appearance of his search of the ledger. "Names?" Once he had them, and confirmed they weren't on his list, he signalled them toward the town. "Please tell the tavern keeper to put you up for the night, on the city's tab. We will discuss your situation in the morning."
He waited for them to vanish into the town before he addressed the outlaws again. "Well? What other business have you?"
"This one heard tell of an offer of clemency for the group which returned the mine to Raven Rock, yes no?"
Adril pursed his lips and opened his ledger again. He flipped through pages, to give the outlaws some tension. If they couldn't be patient, they were too uncouth to be granted the offer -- and he would have fewer problems in the town. Alas, they kept their cool. "It would appear so." Adril snapped the ledger shut. "What proof do you have that the mine is free of its infestation?"
The gang had several beastfolk members, who most visibly showed disgust with Adril's choice of words.
But their leader was unphased. He produced a ring of keys from his one sleeve, and tossed them to Adril. "Keys of Damphall -- seal of House Redoran to prove."
Adril examined the keys -- and sure enough, there was the master key inscribed with House Redoran's seal on a flat medal beneath the hoop. On the back was the number assigned to Damphall. As much as he disliked it -- that was proof.
"Very good. Leave your names with me, and I will draw up the official paperwork of your clemency to send to Blacklight." Adril kept his professional tone despite how he hated the words he had to say. "You will be able to come and go in Raven Rock, but the mainland will consider you criminals still, until they receive the paperwork."
It also gave them more time to confirm they wouldn't permit rapists, heretics, or Hlaalus into society again.
Most of the names he looked up all had the usual spread for a reaver. Murder, banditry, theft, evading arrest. Often the crime that put them into the outlaw status was fraud -- they had taken on debt they couldn't pay, thus they were guilty of fraud. Many had their original debt owed by Mogrul, a rich soldier from the Great War who settled in Raven Rock to retire.
That would be a taxing conversation. More than likely, Mogrul would petition House Redoran to compensate him for his original losses from being defrauded by his borrowers.
But when it came to the leader of the group -- he found something odd. "Farri, you say?" Adril muttered as he examined the sheet on his ledger. "You're a convicted felon. Almost served your sentence, and then escaped on the last day."
That got the first meaningful reaction out of the one-eyed Khajiit. "Excuse, please? Escaped?"
"Quite. Renden from Highpoint Tower reported you had escaped shortly before he went to officially release you. Apparently Highpoint Tower isn't overly secure, as you've merely brought up their rate of prisoner escapes back to one hundred percent."
Farri's face became a snarl. "This one did not 'escape'. His contract was sold."
Adril rolled his eyes. "Contrary to popular belief, prisoners are not slaves." He tried to keep his voice free of condescension, but he'd heard it from so many unscrupulous people who tried to purchase the people in the Bulwark's jail -- it got annoying. "They cannot be sold, they cannot be killed without cause. Businesses volunteer to house, feed, clothe, and care for prisoners who work there for their sentences -- that is as close to slavery as it gets." Adril checked the ledger again. "Hrmph. We've already sent the compensation fee to Renden for your escape, that will be in an entirely different ledger -- ugh."
"Khajiit has a witness to prove he did not escape!" The cat pointed at him. "Shift Lead at Highpoint Tower Mine, Niyya, was there. She saw, and heard!"
"It hardly matters," Adril sighed with a clipped tone. "Your crime will be forgiven once the First Councilor signs the paperwork." He shook his head -- why were the short-lived races so excitable?
The cat looked at him, his expression the picture of hatred, then forced himself to calm down. "Fine. Farri will let it go."
Adril was so happy, he only barely noticed the short Khajiit had crossed his index and middle finger on one hand. An odd gesture, perhaps of some significance to the reavers -- but it was lost on Adril.
---
Yay! They're back in the only livable town legitimately worse than Windhelm! Huzzah!
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KleverKil'Vanya
Ortillery Operator
So wait, the mine owner tried to say he escaped? The flying fuck is he on about??
Guess he needs to die now.
Guess he needs to die now.
Krazyfan1
Worrying for the future.
- Location
- Australia
i mean, he was a slaver, he needed to die already.
- Location
- Sweden
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Bastard probably counted on Farri being correct and getting disappeared.
And lol at him crossing his fingers.
And lol at him crossing his fingers.
SneakyWalrus
Is the Water Free?
Pfffft, trying on a Redoran to be honourable is like relying on a Telvanni to be sane. It's telling that the only reasonable and decent house, Hlaalu, was used as a scapegoat so that the rest of the Dunmer could keep being scumfucks.
SmashQueen
Professional duck-cat.
Well Farri *did* have that ashsuit. The morbid man wanted payback.
Farri shall get payback as well.
Edit: so if Mr. McTurdman would happen to be found guilty of crimes.... enough to have his slaves freed.... there's a mine open that would perhaps benefit from an influx of willing miners, yes no?
Farri shall get payback as well.
Edit: so if Mr. McTurdman would happen to be found guilty of crimes.... enough to have his slaves freed.... there's a mine open that would perhaps benefit from an influx of willing miners, yes no?
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Chairtastic
Anything's a chair if you're brave enough
- Location
- Breakfast nook
- Pronouns
- He / Him / It
He always needed to die. Now he needs to die screaming. Now it has to hurt.
He also collected payment on all the prisoners who died in his mine. Don't forget that.
I mean, with all the previous sellers it was true.
Hlaalu were vicious capitalists, and a bit too eager to sell out their society for foreign influence. All the Great Houses have their strengths and weaknesses, often they're one in the same. Redoran are typically honorable, but it's a warrior's honor. They fundamentally don't respect non-martial ways of life.
Due to his high escape rate, his prisoner capacity has been reduced. Right now Farwesu is the only prisoner on-site. He'd be made to repay the money he gained from being compensated for escaped prisoners -- but that's hard to prove because there's no paper trail, and his mine produces gold. He can say any discrepancy in his books is from him literally mining gold and having it minted into coins.
It's a situation where justice comes on the edge of a blade, if at all.
Farri's Journal #1
Chairtastic
Anything's a chair if you're brave enough
- Location
- Breakfast nook
- Pronouns
- He / Him / It
Codex: Farri's Journal, Entry 1.
---
Note to self: Don't write anything here we aren't comfortable with one of the gang or House Redoran reading.
What I wouldn't fucking give for some shoes. Golven burned all the ones on the ship when he found out I could resize clothes. I'm so mad I can't see him die again.
Alright. What do we have to work with. It's 4E 200, Sun's Height. We have a group of spirited people with a variety of skill sets to work with, and the thu'um works.
I would have looked like a real idiot if it hadn't worked, I realize now.
The veins of gold and emeralds up north of Raven Rock aren't as rich as I hoped, but they go down into the junction between RR Mine and Bloodskal Barrow. We could probably turn that whole region into something with decent industrialization.
Before Golven found me, I did a check on the Altar of Thrond's mineral veins. Decent moonstone and quicksilver, but that silver vein runs deep. The heartstone deposits by the Brodir Grove also go down a fair bit -- we can use those.
What is heart stone good for again? Have to remember.
--Staff enchanting, apparently that's a big deal. Need a stone about the size of a medicine ball for the enchanter, though.
--Zombies. Reverses necrosis, restores brain function, removes the time limit.
--Ash spawn. I don't think regular spawn need a heart stone, but I know the guardians do. Glorified reskinned storm atronachs.
--Theory: Use the reversal of necrosis and restore brain function aspects with healing magic, or break off tiny pieces for healing potions.
I want my eye back, godsdamnit. And my ear! My hearing on that side is dogshit.
I don't mind talking like a normal Khajiit, but it's good that I can write how I normally do.
Falx uses a heart stone to command ash spawn without even being a mage -- that might be something I can do. I hope Niyya took my hint about Ildari, I don't want to have to fight her like this.
Even if they're not deep, those gold and emerald veins north of Raven Rock are the best way to get started -- I don't know what they're going to do with Damphall yet, but if we can get it yeah baby. That's a safe-to-mine silver ore vein that goes deeep.
We work toward getting Thrond tapped -- have to kill those werewolves first, they're way too close to Thrond for my liking. Also, dead werewolves. Yay. Moonstone and quicksilver give us what we need for elven weapons, those are pretty damn good. We give enough of them to people, maybe we make a move on Frossel.
Stahlrim is definitely on the table. But we need to find out more about it -- if I run into a black book, I'll ask for that since I already know the words for Bend Will. Note to self: Bend Will is only used on Dragons. Because riding Dragons is awesome.
I wonder if Miraak is going to wake up ahead of schedule now that I'm here, using the thu'um. I hope it's the older Miraak version -- he's easier on the eyes.
Sinding was kinda hot too, not gonna lie. Shame I'm going to pull his skin off next time I see him. Assuming he's not dead.
Oh fuck if he's dead Hircine's gonna do that red moon hunt thing on me isn't he? Shit shit shit shit.
Note to self: Next entry should include a list of hot guys. The rendering engine for Skyrim didn't do them enough justice -- rawr.
---
---
Note to self: Don't write anything here we aren't comfortable with one of the gang or House Redoran reading.
What I wouldn't fucking give for some shoes. Golven burned all the ones on the ship when he found out I could resize clothes. I'm so mad I can't see him die again.
Alright. What do we have to work with. It's 4E 200, Sun's Height. We have a group of spirited people with a variety of skill sets to work with, and the thu'um works.
I would have looked like a real idiot if it hadn't worked, I realize now.
The veins of gold and emeralds up north of Raven Rock aren't as rich as I hoped, but they go down into the junction between RR Mine and Bloodskal Barrow. We could probably turn that whole region into something with decent industrialization.
Before Golven found me, I did a check on the Altar of Thrond's mineral veins. Decent moonstone and quicksilver, but that silver vein runs deep. The heartstone deposits by the Brodir Grove also go down a fair bit -- we can use those.
What is heart stone good for again? Have to remember.
--Staff enchanting, apparently that's a big deal. Need a stone about the size of a medicine ball for the enchanter, though.
--Zombies. Reverses necrosis, restores brain function, removes the time limit.
--Ash spawn. I don't think regular spawn need a heart stone, but I know the guardians do. Glorified reskinned storm atronachs.
--Theory: Use the reversal of necrosis and restore brain function aspects with healing magic, or break off tiny pieces for healing potions.
I want my eye back, godsdamnit. And my ear! My hearing on that side is dogshit.
I don't mind talking like a normal Khajiit, but it's good that I can write how I normally do.
Falx uses a heart stone to command ash spawn without even being a mage -- that might be something I can do. I hope Niyya took my hint about Ildari, I don't want to have to fight her like this.
Even if they're not deep, those gold and emerald veins north of Raven Rock are the best way to get started -- I don't know what they're going to do with Damphall yet, but if we can get it yeah baby. That's a safe-to-mine silver ore vein that goes deeep.
We work toward getting Thrond tapped -- have to kill those werewolves first, they're way too close to Thrond for my liking. Also, dead werewolves. Yay. Moonstone and quicksilver give us what we need for elven weapons, those are pretty damn good. We give enough of them to people, maybe we make a move on Frossel.
Stahlrim is definitely on the table. But we need to find out more about it -- if I run into a black book, I'll ask for that since I already know the words for Bend Will. Note to self: Bend Will is only used on Dragons. Because riding Dragons is awesome.
I wonder if Miraak is going to wake up ahead of schedule now that I'm here, using the thu'um. I hope it's the older Miraak version -- he's easier on the eyes.
Sinding was kinda hot too, not gonna lie. Shame I'm going to pull his skin off next time I see him. Assuming he's not dead.
Oh fuck if he's dead Hircine's gonna do that red moon hunt thing on me isn't he? Shit shit shit shit.
Note to self: Next entry should include a list of hot guys. The rendering engine for Skyrim didn't do them enough justice -- rawr.
---
Chairtastic
Anything's a chair if you're brave enough
- Location
- Breakfast nook
- Pronouns
- He / Him / It
The rendering engine likely didn't do him any favors -- but we have to see him on-screen before he can be added to The List.
Ch 6
Chairtastic
Anything's a chair if you're brave enough
- Location
- Breakfast nook
- Pronouns
- He / Him / It
Chapter Six: Plans Hatching
---
Frostmoon Crag
Sinding
The last thing he remembered -- he had been sucked into a cyclone and thrown into the sea. If he had died there, it would not have been so terrible. But he hadn't, as he woke with a feeling of terrible pain in his limbs.
His groans brought the attention of others -- and made Sinding reflect on where he was. He was laid out upon stone covered in a bedroll. He could feel itchy bandages and stick splints along his limbs and fingers -- the cyclone must have messed him up proper. His eyes were covered with gauze, and his mouth held shut with bandages wrapped around his head.
The familiar scent of wolves filled his nose -- the sound of restless hearts filled his ears. Wherever he was, he was amongst a werewolf pack.
"Majni, he's waking up," a woman's voice with a Nordic accent spoke. She was somewhere nearby -- to Sinding's left.
"Akar, check if the whelp's good to get out of his roll," a distant man's voice, also a Nord from his accent. There was annoyance in his voice.
Another man's voice grunted, and footsteps drew near to Sinding slowly. Before he knew it, a foot was placed on his arm, and pressed down. When Sinding didn't respond with a shriek, the same was done to his leg. Then the same for the other side.
"S'fine," the second man's voice grunted. "Ready to get up."
"Good. Rakel, get as much as you can without damaging anything."
A woman's hands quickly untied the gauze around Sinding's eyes and head. Her form was revealed to Sinding after his eyes adjusted to the light. A young lass, beautiful in a humble way -- no scars at all on her face or arms. She wore furs, but not in the style of the Skaal -- she wore them in the way bandits in Skyrim did.
His nose told him she was a werewolf.
"Good to see you alive, brother," she said with a warm smile and speedy hands. She easily opened the bedroll and began to unbind Sinding's arms. The bandages and splints were gently set aside, with every tear or broken item marked with a word of curse.
"Where…?"
"You're among your own kind. I'm Rakel, of the Frostmoon Pack."
It was a few minutes before Sinding could sit up. His jointed popped and cracked from stiffness -- he had been bedridden for a while. He was in a cave, out of the wind, with snow evident at the lip. A fire was made near the front, where smoke could get out easily.
A man and a woman sat at the fire, while a second man went to a table burdened with a deer carcass. The seated ones ate cooked meat with their hands, while more meat cooked on spits above the flame.
"That's our pack leader, Majni," Rakel said with a gesture to the seated man. "Next to him is Hjordis, from our sister pack."
"Hail," Sinding greeted them with a bowed head.
"Hail," they responded, slightly out of synch.
Rakel continued the introductions and gestured to the second man, who had begun to butcher the deer. "That's our hunter, Akar. Majni's brother. He's the one who found you, down by the shore."
"Hmph," the hunter said. "Cyclone interrupted a good hunt."
"Are you still hung up about that netch?" Majni looked up from his meat, then shrugged when his brother wouldn't answer. "Bah. Glad you're not dead yet, stranger."
"Thank you. I'm Sinding, from a pack in Skyrim." Sinding rubbed his legs as they were freed from splints. He didn't want pins and needles when he stood up. He was in the nude, but no one acted as if it were shameful. They were all werewolves, it came with the territory. Sinding knew his desire to be free of the wolf would not be well received among a proper pack, so he did the only thing he could in that situation.
Lie like a damned elf.
"My alpha sent me to seek out the Wyrd Sisters, to gain better control of my beast -- or to ask Hircine why I struggled so much with it."
Majni nodded, as if that were sensible. "The sisters have helped members of our pack with the same issue in the past. What went wrong?"
There, Sinding could afford to mix in some truth. He accepted clothes -- his own, he realized -- from Rakel, and began to dress. "They said some of the plants for the ritual had gone extinct on Solstheim. They had to make substitutions."
"Hmm." Majni nodded. "And… what was the Khajiit for?" He locked eyes with Sinding, and slowed his eating so each chew cut the meat loudly. Ominously. "My brother saw you, before the cyclone, take the cat from the prey's mine."
Sinding didn't know how many rituals of the Glenmoril Witches called for a sacrifice. He had to think of something, quickly. "The Sisters were hungry," he answered without missing a beat. "They wanted some dinner."
All the noises of the camp stopped. Akar stopped in the midst of removing the deer's lungs, Hjordis and Majni stopped mid-chew, and Rakel paused with an armful of bandages and splints.
Then the laughter started. Akar began it, followed shortly thereafter by his packmates.
"You lie so well, you shoulda been born an elf," Majni said around his chuckles. He raised his eyebrow at Sinding, while the color left Sinding's face. "Oh yeah. I know what ritual of theirs calls for damned virgins." He took a massive bite of his meat, and chewed while he smiled.
"...You know I was trying to get rid of the wolf?" Sinding glanced around at the pack. "Then… why help me?"
"Aye, I knew. And normally, we'd have left you to drown." Majni shrugged. "But you and that cat… I don't know what you did, but Lord Hircine is excited." The Nord's eyes twinkled in the firelight. "Lord Hircine has marked the two of you as Hares."
If Sinding had been pale before, he grew paler still. He might have been white as a sheet of ice, for all he knew. Hares were targets in Hircine's Great Hunts. Spectacles of the Daedric Prince's sphere -- the hunt, the chase, and the kill.
Hares were to be hunted. Driven, chased, killed, then displayed for all to see.
Majni smiled, and pointed. "There we go, that's the kinda face we like on prey." He went back to his meat with gusto. A civilized person would likely retch to see how the werewolf ate. "But the Hunt hasn't begun yet. You're living on borrowed time. Best get something to eat and move on, before we tire of having an ingrate among us."
Akar threw a slab of red, bloody meat near Sinding and returned to his butchery.
Sinding, still pale as ice, took the meat with shaking hands and ran southward.
–
Raven Rock
Reaver Hakar
Getting everything they could out of the Strident Squall had taken days, during which Briras and Hakar spent many hours in a boat, keen eyes focused on the Burnt Spriggans in the forest.
When they were far away, they landed and got what they could into the boat and made off to town. Every time they brought something back, the Redoran Guard stopped them for a 'random' search. They were obviously looking for things like Skooma or stolen items. Farri had told them to leave everything they knew for a fact was stolen on the ship.
Their last trip was definitively the end of the Squall, as a couple of the Burnt Spriggans came into the camp and tried to burn them out. The wreck was a proper sight as they paddled back.
With thirteen people in need of a place to sleep -- they had to improvise until a house was made ready. The camp Adives' gang had set up in Damphall was taken down and moved to Raven Rock, as was the setup in Bloodskal Barrow.
And where did all of that go? Into a damned mine.
Hakar wasn't one for belly-achin'. The mine provided good stone floor and a roof. Ash-free air, a blessing. But it was also a mine -- and contrary to popular belief, Solstheim was still in the far frozen north. The soil was cold, frozen, and difficult to work with under all that ash.
The boss had talked to the Second Councilor into letting the group stay in Raven Rock Mine, since it was otherwise useless without ebony to dig up. He and the mage of Adives' old group, Nelos, had used magic to make the place more liveable. They worked solid stone like clay, and had it move around at their bidding. Uneven ground fixed itself, paths widened, rooms made themselves bigger.
It was all pretty handy. Not as much as the boss' potions, though.
When Briras and Hakar brought in the last of the items from the Squall, they came in to find the two other Khajiit in their group -- Harrani and J'Saddha -- seated while the boss stood on a chair next to them. Harrani looked straight up and blinked rapidly, while the boss tried to strain and get up to J'Saddha's face.
"This is no good," Farri told the tall Khajiit, and hopped off the chair. "Lay down, this one is too short."
When J'Saddha did, the boss took a potion and splashed it directly into the Khajiit's eyes.
Hakar leaned over to whisper to Briras while they set the knapsacks and crates down. "Why are they so different looking? The boss and them -- they're all Khajiit, right?"
"Khajiit change shape depending on what phases of the moon were present at their birth," Briras explained via a whisper back, then nodded toward Harrani. "See, she's Dagi-raht -- and the boss is Dagi. They're both small, light, able to climb and move around the very tops of trees."
Harrani was taller than the boss by about a head, which put her at around a Bosmer's height. Her fur was darker, with much more brown and black than the boss. Hakar had seen her with an axe as her weapon, but she'd traded it for a miner's pick.
"And J'Saddha is Cathay-raht. A lot of the Khajiit outside Elsweyr are Cathay or Cathay-raht since they're easier for people to interact with."
J'Saddha was a tall man, his fur mostly yellow with an abundance of white and evidence of faded spots. His reaver gear had been traded for blacksmithing clothes -- a heavy apron and hammer.
Hakar had noted they both had pronounced squints when they had been up and about, and often relied on their fellows to guide them around.
"Farri wants you two to relax until blurry vision leaves," the boss said to his patients with no room for backtalk. "Be glad you don't have to wear glasses, yes no?" He looked up and saw Hakar and Briras had returned. "Good, you're back. This one can talk about the plan, then."
The boss whistled down the stairs into the mine, and shouted for everyone to gather up top.
Hakar and Briras took seats next to the blinking Khajiit and waited for the rest of the group to arrive. The narrowness of the stairs meant they had to arrive single file.
There was the old Dunmer, of Fadar's generation, Zahshur. A relentless taskmaster who would give the impression of having been in the Redoran Guard. But nope, Zahshur was a brewer.
Meerana the red-scaled Argonian joined next. The boss had called her 'Saxhleel', which had her smiling like a fool for hours. She'd been a farmer on Solstheim when a raiding party from Black Marsh landed. Arano had assumed she was involved, and one thing led to another.
Elam followed after her, he was one of the two-handers and another former farmer. Hakar was certain there was something between him and Meerana, but didn't care enough to dig. He was an odd mix of a berserker and a pessimist. The boss called him 'glass half empty', whatever that meant.
Berol came in next -- a sweet roll in one hand. Like the boss, he loved to cook and brew. But unlike Zahshur, he did so at an alchemy table. The pudgy dark elf hadn't been a reaver for long, but seemed glad to return to town all the same.
Nelos arrived with a tagalong, one of the sword and boarders called Fethis, tugged along by the arm. Fethis was lanky for a Dunmer, probably had an Altmer pa, and he had the sleeping sickness. If he sat down without talking, he'd have his limbs go numb.
And lastly there was Rudrasa with Nenya. They were basically made for each other, both soldiers though from different generations, and taciturn most of the time. Rudrasa had taken it upon herself to make Nenya give her arm time to heal.
Once everyone was together, the boss made sure they had enough seating. In the end, only Rudrasa elected to stand.
"Alright. Now, this one will do a quick security check." Farri's ears went up as he turned toward the main entrance. "Laas!" He looked around, then down at the mine, and made a face. "Eugh. Draugr are closer than this one would like. Anyway." He clapped his hands. "Khajiit promised riches and revenge -- he will tell you how he plans to deliver them."
The boss took a map from the desk at which Meerana sat and unrolled it. A bit of magic had the map stretch to match the width of the room and anchor itself like a tarp. It was a map of Solstheim, dated at the year 190, fairly recent.
He tapped Raven Rock then moved his pointer finger northward. "Here there are gold and emerald veins, near the surface. Nearby there are heartstone deposits," he tapped a triangular mark on the map -- where the Grove had once been. "They're useful for selling to Telvanni wizard, or magic experiments at home. Low priority." He flicked his hand dismissively.
"But!" He held up both fingers emphatically. "Khajiit knows the rocks in Damphall," he pointed at the coast, "and either side of Mosering pass," and pointed toward the interior, "have strong, strong mineral veins. Silver for Damphall, the same for Thrond -- who also has moonstone and quicksilver. Mount Mosering brings sapphire, silver, and corundum to the mix."
J'Saddha, the blacksmith, sat up with ears perked up. "Those all sound like great mining opportunities to this one." He blinked, confused. "Why have dark elves not gone after it?"
"Werewolves," both Hakar and the boss said at once.
The boss drew a line along the southern root of Mount Mosering. "Werewolf den, right here."
J'Saddha floundered for a moment, then eventually settled down with his head supported on one fist. "Hmm… that would do it, yes."
"The Guard as it is can't win a fight with scuttlehead Spriggans," Rudrasa groused with a scowl. "One werewolf could tear a bloody strip through this whole town if it wanted to. I'm guessing there's more than one in that den."
The boss held up two fingers on either hand, and framed them around his face like whiskers.
"Oh, good. They could slaughter the whole settlement."
"Khajiit agrees." Farri then went back to the map. "Frossel, was a reaver settlement until recently. Has rich gold deposits -- mostly locked in ice. We will work toward getting numbers and weapons to take it." He tapped the initial spot north of Raven Rock, then Mosering Pass, then Frossel. "Each a step to further wealth."
He then tapped other spots on the map. "Gemstone veins all over Solstheim -- no diamond or garnet, very sad. Rubies are most abundant." He circled a spot on the northern half of the island, toward the middle. "White Ridge Barrow, rubies for days. Dangerous, because it's currently occupied."
"Boss," Nelos spoke up and stood. "That's a lot of wealth you've told us about, and I'm sure I speak for everyone when I say -- once we start getting some return on investment, that's riches taken care of." He looked around at the group, and received many nods. "But, I couldn't help but notice…."
"Where's the revenge on House Redoran?" Hakar finished for him, with crossed arms. "Us becoming wealthy just means they get more tax."
The boss interlocked his hands, then calmly walked to the eastern half of the map and tapped on a spot. "Ashfallow Citadel. Old Imperial fort. Currently home to Morag Tong training facility."
A wave of tension went through the Morrowind native Dunmer of the group. Their ears and hair stood on end slightly more than a moment prior. Hakar knew the Tong, they were the group the feared Dark Brotherhood had broken off from.
Assassins.
"Khajiit knows they have a writ of execution for Councilor Morvayn." Farri looked at them with a wide, malicious smile. "We will give them an opening to strike." Before anyone could say anything, he ominously cracked his knuckles one by one. "House Redoran doesn't care about this island, because they think there is no ebony left."
"...Because there's not?" Zahshur asked, and leaned forward in his seat with interest.
"Khajiit will summarize." He shrugged. "Mine is cursed. Dead Imperial wants his remains found, he curses mine because they stopped looking for him. Plenty of ebony left."
"Is that what's wrong with his place's aura?" Nelos had the look of someone struck by sudden realization. "Azura's ash yams, it all makes sense now…."
"...We're going to leave 'Azura's ash yams' for now. Back on point." The boss drew attention back to the map with his tail a-thwapping it. "Redorans see island as worthless, lose well-liked Councilor, they will want to get rid of it." Farri's grin was cat-like. "We convince them to renounce Solstheim. Then reopen ebony mine. Egg all over their face."
Hakar could just imagine the dirty looks the big cheeses in Blacklight would give Arano if things transpired that way. It would stink of absolute incompetence. House Redoran would be made to seem incompetent.
Egg all over their face, indeed.
"And what's your plan for when they put together a fleet to renege on the deal, taking the island back?"
"It will take them years to do that. Elves think of a decade the same way we think of a year. And even if they do, their navy is trash." Farri snapped his fingers, and the map unanchored itself then shrank back to normal size. "There we go. Riches, and revenge. Plan seems good, yes no?"
"So, what we're essentially doing," Briras stood and spoke slow -- like he worked out what he'd heard as he talked. "Is… we're going to buy out Solstheim? Become our own country?"
"Independence is possible, but difficult." Farri returned the scroll where it had been in the desk, and sighed. "Telvanni wizard would be hard to kill off. Most likely thing is Solstheim becomes part of Skyrim again."
The boss returned to the center of the room, his lonely eye focused on them as a group. "But this one would like to know. Everyone likes plan? Likes riches, and revenge? No complaints yet?"
Hakar looked around at the group, who in turn looked at each other for any disapproval. So far, no one had any complaints.
"Khajiit is very pleased." He smiled big and wide. "Now this one needs some volunteers to come help dig up gold and emeralds from up north. Vengeance won't pay for itself." He paused for a second, and looked away. "Yet."
Out of the entire presentation which involved killing a mostly good mer, and slapping the face clean off an entire noble house, that one sentence unnerved Hakar the most.
---
Now the past I've tried forgetting, and my foes I could forgive.
Trouble is? I know it's petty…
I just hate to let them live.
---
Frostmoon Crag
Sinding
The last thing he remembered -- he had been sucked into a cyclone and thrown into the sea. If he had died there, it would not have been so terrible. But he hadn't, as he woke with a feeling of terrible pain in his limbs.
His groans brought the attention of others -- and made Sinding reflect on where he was. He was laid out upon stone covered in a bedroll. He could feel itchy bandages and stick splints along his limbs and fingers -- the cyclone must have messed him up proper. His eyes were covered with gauze, and his mouth held shut with bandages wrapped around his head.
The familiar scent of wolves filled his nose -- the sound of restless hearts filled his ears. Wherever he was, he was amongst a werewolf pack.
"Majni, he's waking up," a woman's voice with a Nordic accent spoke. She was somewhere nearby -- to Sinding's left.
"Akar, check if the whelp's good to get out of his roll," a distant man's voice, also a Nord from his accent. There was annoyance in his voice.
Another man's voice grunted, and footsteps drew near to Sinding slowly. Before he knew it, a foot was placed on his arm, and pressed down. When Sinding didn't respond with a shriek, the same was done to his leg. Then the same for the other side.
"S'fine," the second man's voice grunted. "Ready to get up."
"Good. Rakel, get as much as you can without damaging anything."
A woman's hands quickly untied the gauze around Sinding's eyes and head. Her form was revealed to Sinding after his eyes adjusted to the light. A young lass, beautiful in a humble way -- no scars at all on her face or arms. She wore furs, but not in the style of the Skaal -- she wore them in the way bandits in Skyrim did.
His nose told him she was a werewolf.
"Good to see you alive, brother," she said with a warm smile and speedy hands. She easily opened the bedroll and began to unbind Sinding's arms. The bandages and splints were gently set aside, with every tear or broken item marked with a word of curse.
"Where…?"
"You're among your own kind. I'm Rakel, of the Frostmoon Pack."
It was a few minutes before Sinding could sit up. His jointed popped and cracked from stiffness -- he had been bedridden for a while. He was in a cave, out of the wind, with snow evident at the lip. A fire was made near the front, where smoke could get out easily.
A man and a woman sat at the fire, while a second man went to a table burdened with a deer carcass. The seated ones ate cooked meat with their hands, while more meat cooked on spits above the flame.
"That's our pack leader, Majni," Rakel said with a gesture to the seated man. "Next to him is Hjordis, from our sister pack."
"Hail," Sinding greeted them with a bowed head.
"Hail," they responded, slightly out of synch.
Rakel continued the introductions and gestured to the second man, who had begun to butcher the deer. "That's our hunter, Akar. Majni's brother. He's the one who found you, down by the shore."
"Hmph," the hunter said. "Cyclone interrupted a good hunt."
"Are you still hung up about that netch?" Majni looked up from his meat, then shrugged when his brother wouldn't answer. "Bah. Glad you're not dead yet, stranger."
"Thank you. I'm Sinding, from a pack in Skyrim." Sinding rubbed his legs as they were freed from splints. He didn't want pins and needles when he stood up. He was in the nude, but no one acted as if it were shameful. They were all werewolves, it came with the territory. Sinding knew his desire to be free of the wolf would not be well received among a proper pack, so he did the only thing he could in that situation.
Lie like a damned elf.
"My alpha sent me to seek out the Wyrd Sisters, to gain better control of my beast -- or to ask Hircine why I struggled so much with it."
Majni nodded, as if that were sensible. "The sisters have helped members of our pack with the same issue in the past. What went wrong?"
There, Sinding could afford to mix in some truth. He accepted clothes -- his own, he realized -- from Rakel, and began to dress. "They said some of the plants for the ritual had gone extinct on Solstheim. They had to make substitutions."
"Hmm." Majni nodded. "And… what was the Khajiit for?" He locked eyes with Sinding, and slowed his eating so each chew cut the meat loudly. Ominously. "My brother saw you, before the cyclone, take the cat from the prey's mine."
Sinding didn't know how many rituals of the Glenmoril Witches called for a sacrifice. He had to think of something, quickly. "The Sisters were hungry," he answered without missing a beat. "They wanted some dinner."
All the noises of the camp stopped. Akar stopped in the midst of removing the deer's lungs, Hjordis and Majni stopped mid-chew, and Rakel paused with an armful of bandages and splints.
Then the laughter started. Akar began it, followed shortly thereafter by his packmates.
"You lie so well, you shoulda been born an elf," Majni said around his chuckles. He raised his eyebrow at Sinding, while the color left Sinding's face. "Oh yeah. I know what ritual of theirs calls for damned virgins." He took a massive bite of his meat, and chewed while he smiled.
"...You know I was trying to get rid of the wolf?" Sinding glanced around at the pack. "Then… why help me?"
"Aye, I knew. And normally, we'd have left you to drown." Majni shrugged. "But you and that cat… I don't know what you did, but Lord Hircine is excited." The Nord's eyes twinkled in the firelight. "Lord Hircine has marked the two of you as Hares."
If Sinding had been pale before, he grew paler still. He might have been white as a sheet of ice, for all he knew. Hares were targets in Hircine's Great Hunts. Spectacles of the Daedric Prince's sphere -- the hunt, the chase, and the kill.
Hares were to be hunted. Driven, chased, killed, then displayed for all to see.
Majni smiled, and pointed. "There we go, that's the kinda face we like on prey." He went back to his meat with gusto. A civilized person would likely retch to see how the werewolf ate. "But the Hunt hasn't begun yet. You're living on borrowed time. Best get something to eat and move on, before we tire of having an ingrate among us."
Akar threw a slab of red, bloody meat near Sinding and returned to his butchery.
Sinding, still pale as ice, took the meat with shaking hands and ran southward.
–
Raven Rock
Reaver Hakar
Getting everything they could out of the Strident Squall had taken days, during which Briras and Hakar spent many hours in a boat, keen eyes focused on the Burnt Spriggans in the forest.
When they were far away, they landed and got what they could into the boat and made off to town. Every time they brought something back, the Redoran Guard stopped them for a 'random' search. They were obviously looking for things like Skooma or stolen items. Farri had told them to leave everything they knew for a fact was stolen on the ship.
Their last trip was definitively the end of the Squall, as a couple of the Burnt Spriggans came into the camp and tried to burn them out. The wreck was a proper sight as they paddled back.
With thirteen people in need of a place to sleep -- they had to improvise until a house was made ready. The camp Adives' gang had set up in Damphall was taken down and moved to Raven Rock, as was the setup in Bloodskal Barrow.
And where did all of that go? Into a damned mine.
Hakar wasn't one for belly-achin'. The mine provided good stone floor and a roof. Ash-free air, a blessing. But it was also a mine -- and contrary to popular belief, Solstheim was still in the far frozen north. The soil was cold, frozen, and difficult to work with under all that ash.
The boss had talked to the Second Councilor into letting the group stay in Raven Rock Mine, since it was otherwise useless without ebony to dig up. He and the mage of Adives' old group, Nelos, had used magic to make the place more liveable. They worked solid stone like clay, and had it move around at their bidding. Uneven ground fixed itself, paths widened, rooms made themselves bigger.
It was all pretty handy. Not as much as the boss' potions, though.
When Briras and Hakar brought in the last of the items from the Squall, they came in to find the two other Khajiit in their group -- Harrani and J'Saddha -- seated while the boss stood on a chair next to them. Harrani looked straight up and blinked rapidly, while the boss tried to strain and get up to J'Saddha's face.
"This is no good," Farri told the tall Khajiit, and hopped off the chair. "Lay down, this one is too short."
When J'Saddha did, the boss took a potion and splashed it directly into the Khajiit's eyes.
Hakar leaned over to whisper to Briras while they set the knapsacks and crates down. "Why are they so different looking? The boss and them -- they're all Khajiit, right?"
"Khajiit change shape depending on what phases of the moon were present at their birth," Briras explained via a whisper back, then nodded toward Harrani. "See, she's Dagi-raht -- and the boss is Dagi. They're both small, light, able to climb and move around the very tops of trees."
Harrani was taller than the boss by about a head, which put her at around a Bosmer's height. Her fur was darker, with much more brown and black than the boss. Hakar had seen her with an axe as her weapon, but she'd traded it for a miner's pick.
"And J'Saddha is Cathay-raht. A lot of the Khajiit outside Elsweyr are Cathay or Cathay-raht since they're easier for people to interact with."
J'Saddha was a tall man, his fur mostly yellow with an abundance of white and evidence of faded spots. His reaver gear had been traded for blacksmithing clothes -- a heavy apron and hammer.
Hakar had noted they both had pronounced squints when they had been up and about, and often relied on their fellows to guide them around.
"Farri wants you two to relax until blurry vision leaves," the boss said to his patients with no room for backtalk. "Be glad you don't have to wear glasses, yes no?" He looked up and saw Hakar and Briras had returned. "Good, you're back. This one can talk about the plan, then."
The boss whistled down the stairs into the mine, and shouted for everyone to gather up top.
Hakar and Briras took seats next to the blinking Khajiit and waited for the rest of the group to arrive. The narrowness of the stairs meant they had to arrive single file.
There was the old Dunmer, of Fadar's generation, Zahshur. A relentless taskmaster who would give the impression of having been in the Redoran Guard. But nope, Zahshur was a brewer.
Meerana the red-scaled Argonian joined next. The boss had called her 'Saxhleel', which had her smiling like a fool for hours. She'd been a farmer on Solstheim when a raiding party from Black Marsh landed. Arano had assumed she was involved, and one thing led to another.
Elam followed after her, he was one of the two-handers and another former farmer. Hakar was certain there was something between him and Meerana, but didn't care enough to dig. He was an odd mix of a berserker and a pessimist. The boss called him 'glass half empty', whatever that meant.
Berol came in next -- a sweet roll in one hand. Like the boss, he loved to cook and brew. But unlike Zahshur, he did so at an alchemy table. The pudgy dark elf hadn't been a reaver for long, but seemed glad to return to town all the same.
Nelos arrived with a tagalong, one of the sword and boarders called Fethis, tugged along by the arm. Fethis was lanky for a Dunmer, probably had an Altmer pa, and he had the sleeping sickness. If he sat down without talking, he'd have his limbs go numb.
And lastly there was Rudrasa with Nenya. They were basically made for each other, both soldiers though from different generations, and taciturn most of the time. Rudrasa had taken it upon herself to make Nenya give her arm time to heal.
Once everyone was together, the boss made sure they had enough seating. In the end, only Rudrasa elected to stand.
"Alright. Now, this one will do a quick security check." Farri's ears went up as he turned toward the main entrance. "Laas!" He looked around, then down at the mine, and made a face. "Eugh. Draugr are closer than this one would like. Anyway." He clapped his hands. "Khajiit promised riches and revenge -- he will tell you how he plans to deliver them."
The boss took a map from the desk at which Meerana sat and unrolled it. A bit of magic had the map stretch to match the width of the room and anchor itself like a tarp. It was a map of Solstheim, dated at the year 190, fairly recent.
He tapped Raven Rock then moved his pointer finger northward. "Here there are gold and emerald veins, near the surface. Nearby there are heartstone deposits," he tapped a triangular mark on the map -- where the Grove had once been. "They're useful for selling to Telvanni wizard, or magic experiments at home. Low priority." He flicked his hand dismissively.
"But!" He held up both fingers emphatically. "Khajiit knows the rocks in Damphall," he pointed at the coast, "and either side of Mosering pass," and pointed toward the interior, "have strong, strong mineral veins. Silver for Damphall, the same for Thrond -- who also has moonstone and quicksilver. Mount Mosering brings sapphire, silver, and corundum to the mix."
J'Saddha, the blacksmith, sat up with ears perked up. "Those all sound like great mining opportunities to this one." He blinked, confused. "Why have dark elves not gone after it?"
"Werewolves," both Hakar and the boss said at once.
The boss drew a line along the southern root of Mount Mosering. "Werewolf den, right here."
J'Saddha floundered for a moment, then eventually settled down with his head supported on one fist. "Hmm… that would do it, yes."
"The Guard as it is can't win a fight with scuttlehead Spriggans," Rudrasa groused with a scowl. "One werewolf could tear a bloody strip through this whole town if it wanted to. I'm guessing there's more than one in that den."
The boss held up two fingers on either hand, and framed them around his face like whiskers.
"Oh, good. They could slaughter the whole settlement."
"Khajiit agrees." Farri then went back to the map. "Frossel, was a reaver settlement until recently. Has rich gold deposits -- mostly locked in ice. We will work toward getting numbers and weapons to take it." He tapped the initial spot north of Raven Rock, then Mosering Pass, then Frossel. "Each a step to further wealth."
He then tapped other spots on the map. "Gemstone veins all over Solstheim -- no diamond or garnet, very sad. Rubies are most abundant." He circled a spot on the northern half of the island, toward the middle. "White Ridge Barrow, rubies for days. Dangerous, because it's currently occupied."
"Boss," Nelos spoke up and stood. "That's a lot of wealth you've told us about, and I'm sure I speak for everyone when I say -- once we start getting some return on investment, that's riches taken care of." He looked around at the group, and received many nods. "But, I couldn't help but notice…."
"Where's the revenge on House Redoran?" Hakar finished for him, with crossed arms. "Us becoming wealthy just means they get more tax."
The boss interlocked his hands, then calmly walked to the eastern half of the map and tapped on a spot. "Ashfallow Citadel. Old Imperial fort. Currently home to Morag Tong training facility."
A wave of tension went through the Morrowind native Dunmer of the group. Their ears and hair stood on end slightly more than a moment prior. Hakar knew the Tong, they were the group the feared Dark Brotherhood had broken off from.
Assassins.
"Khajiit knows they have a writ of execution for Councilor Morvayn." Farri looked at them with a wide, malicious smile. "We will give them an opening to strike." Before anyone could say anything, he ominously cracked his knuckles one by one. "House Redoran doesn't care about this island, because they think there is no ebony left."
"...Because there's not?" Zahshur asked, and leaned forward in his seat with interest.
"Khajiit will summarize." He shrugged. "Mine is cursed. Dead Imperial wants his remains found, he curses mine because they stopped looking for him. Plenty of ebony left."
"Is that what's wrong with his place's aura?" Nelos had the look of someone struck by sudden realization. "Azura's ash yams, it all makes sense now…."
"...We're going to leave 'Azura's ash yams' for now. Back on point." The boss drew attention back to the map with his tail a-thwapping it. "Redorans see island as worthless, lose well-liked Councilor, they will want to get rid of it." Farri's grin was cat-like. "We convince them to renounce Solstheim. Then reopen ebony mine. Egg all over their face."
Hakar could just imagine the dirty looks the big cheeses in Blacklight would give Arano if things transpired that way. It would stink of absolute incompetence. House Redoran would be made to seem incompetent.
Egg all over their face, indeed.
"And what's your plan for when they put together a fleet to renege on the deal, taking the island back?"
"It will take them years to do that. Elves think of a decade the same way we think of a year. And even if they do, their navy is trash." Farri snapped his fingers, and the map unanchored itself then shrank back to normal size. "There we go. Riches, and revenge. Plan seems good, yes no?"
"So, what we're essentially doing," Briras stood and spoke slow -- like he worked out what he'd heard as he talked. "Is… we're going to buy out Solstheim? Become our own country?"
"Independence is possible, but difficult." Farri returned the scroll where it had been in the desk, and sighed. "Telvanni wizard would be hard to kill off. Most likely thing is Solstheim becomes part of Skyrim again."
The boss returned to the center of the room, his lonely eye focused on them as a group. "But this one would like to know. Everyone likes plan? Likes riches, and revenge? No complaints yet?"
Hakar looked around at the group, who in turn looked at each other for any disapproval. So far, no one had any complaints.
"Khajiit is very pleased." He smiled big and wide. "Now this one needs some volunteers to come help dig up gold and emeralds from up north. Vengeance won't pay for itself." He paused for a second, and looked away. "Yet."
Out of the entire presentation which involved killing a mostly good mer, and slapping the face clean off an entire noble house, that one sentence unnerved Hakar the most.
---
Now the past I've tried forgetting, and my foes I could forgive.
Trouble is? I know it's petty…
I just hate to let them live.
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