Clever Craft (TES: V Skyrim SI)
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SmashQueen
Professional duck-cat.
With a Khajit learned in ninja magic and having once wielded a zanpakuto, you accept whatever Khajit wants.
Not only that, but the control he possesses of the Thu'um, to modulate it to heat an oven and food as opposed to the usual blast of flame, implies a sizeable amount of experience.
Chairtastic
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It was a real difficult decision on his part. He will have mixed feelings for minutes. Minutes, I say!
Torygg is going to be so surprised when he sees the terms of the purchase. Pleasantly surprised, but still.
"If the Thalmor learn anyone can use the Thu'um, they're going to tell the Imperials."
He only knows two complete Shouts -- unrelenting force, and disarm. But he probably knows at least one word of a couple other shouts -- and Fire is one of the more dangerous ones. Even as one word, fire breath lobs a wave of flame that realistically could set whole crowds on fire.
"That is a word of power which could kill literally everyone in this room if used properly. And not only did it kill absolutely no one, but it expressed itself in a way I have never seen or even heard of before. Using Yol to do that is the equivalent of using an entire river to water your garden. Some manner of fuckery is afoot." <- Ulfric, probably.
SneakyWalrus
Is the Water Free?
I wonder if Farri is going to sit down and have a relatively one-on-one conversation with whoever ends up ruling the island to discuss what he's actually got on offer now that the deal has been properly hashed out. Offering up stuff like a potential new ebony mine is a hell of a thing to sell to people, even if he's ensuring he has direct control over the mining end, but he also has the potential to cut deals with whoever is in power over more esoteric stuff in exchange for protection.
Forgive me but, it is certainly one kind of fuckery.
Hunters
Chairtastic
Anything's a chair if you're brave enough
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Codex: Hunters
---
A dream all those on Solstheim for the Great Hunt have one night.
--
From the void, emerges a sea. There is a city on the sea, a ruin partially submerged. Rigid architecture of stone and bronzed metals along with green-flame torches indicate it is a Dwemer ruin. All throughout the ruin are frozen corpses, some on bridges between the towers -- but most in the towers themselves. Frozen behind cover, like they hid from something.
Wingbeats and a roar draw the dreamer's attention to the furthest building from the shore -- an enormous building that would have towered over the scene in the city's heyday. On the roof, a dragon slams down to roost. He is old, his spikes and fangs worn down to bluntness with age and many hunts.
As if the dreamer is there, the Dragon faces them. "Drem Yol Lok," the creature says with a pleasant voice. "I am Mirmulnir, Master of the Hunt for our Lord Hircine. I am here to tell you the portents of the Great Hunt, and other things. The portents for this hunt differ slightly, due to the changing of the world."
The Dragon turns his head that the dreamer may look into a black, pitiless eye. "The first portent will be werecreatures from the Hunting Grounds manifesting upon Solstheim. Unlike mortals blessed by Hircine, they will not revert to another shape on death or the fading of the moons from the sky. No matter how many are slain, they will continue to appear. Hunt them for practice, if it pleases you."
Mirmulnir turns his head to the other side, where an eye as red as fire looks out at the dreamer. "The second portent will be when Red Mountain gasps her last breath. Lord Hircine will send a moonlet, as Lord Sheogorath did, to put an end to her suffering."
The Dragon turned his head again, and his previously black eye has become white as snow. "The third portent is a blizzard, the likes of which Tamriel has not seen before."
Mirmulnir turns to face the dreamer directly again. "And, of course, the final portent is the blood moon. When Jone shines as red as Jode. When two red moons hang in the sky, hunters, ride for Nchardak. Ride for glory, ride for the Hunt."
The vision of Mirmulnir changes, so that only the dreamer and Dragon are visible.
"I have seen you from above, Hunters, and will now tell you your place in the Hunt." The Dragon's figure blurs and contorts, then solidifies. "If you are hearing this, well met. You will be a Hunter -- a bearer of our Lord's Spears. What are your names? Tell me, so I may sing to the Spear of Bitter Mercy, and the Spear of the Hunter the ones who will brandish them."
He is silent as he listens.
"Dulini of Orcrest, and Nen Undare of the Forsworn. Drem Yol Lok, Hunters. Commune amongst yourselves and come to an agreement on the Offices of this Hunt -- the rules by which glory may be won."
He is silent as he listens.
"You are in agreement, then? Let me repeat them back to you, to ensure no mistakes are made. First; that the Hunters and the Hares will be rendered immortal, except by the blades of your holy spears. Second; that the Hares will be moved to random spots in Nchardak's depths, for the Lesser Hounds to find, and drive into the open during the Drag. Then, in the Chase, your Greater Hounds will aim to fence them in, and call to you for your single combat with the Hare. Whomever presents to me two dead Hares, and two living ones will be victorious."
He is silent as he listens.
"The Hares may be victorious by slaying you, good hunters? Or by escaping Nchardak. Very well, it is a fair chance. I will remember your decisions, that I may annoint both you and the Hares with our Lord's blessings when it is time."
The Dragon's image begins to fade but stops abruptly.
"Hmm? I have failed to give you your hints about who will be taken alive? And who will you slay? Krosis, my apologies." The dragon spreads his wings and the vision changes.
Sinding, in a cave of ice alone, wrapped in furs against the bitter cold. "Sinding the Ungrateful is a coward, he fears death more than anything. He will fight desperately to live."
Kodlak, reading a book by candlelight. "Kodlak Whitemane is an old warrior, he does not fear death. He fears what comes after, that his life has been wasted. He will fight with honor."
Vasha, at a desk, counting cubes of moon sugar on a scale against lead weights. "Vasha is a hedonist, a lover of the physical world. He fears that which cannot be bought, bullied, or beaten -- but not death. He will fight, but only when pressed."
Farri, doing pushups in a well-lit stone room while a Dunmer woman places rocks on his back. "Farri is a prisoner. He does not fear death, he fears that his life, mostly spent in a cage, has been wasted. He will fight with fury the likes of which you have never seen."
The vision changes back to the dragon. "Your hints have been given. Choose well. Lok thu'um, hunters."
Suddenly, the dream ends.
---
---
A dream all those on Solstheim for the Great Hunt have one night.
--
From the void, emerges a sea. There is a city on the sea, a ruin partially submerged. Rigid architecture of stone and bronzed metals along with green-flame torches indicate it is a Dwemer ruin. All throughout the ruin are frozen corpses, some on bridges between the towers -- but most in the towers themselves. Frozen behind cover, like they hid from something.
Wingbeats and a roar draw the dreamer's attention to the furthest building from the shore -- an enormous building that would have towered over the scene in the city's heyday. On the roof, a dragon slams down to roost. He is old, his spikes and fangs worn down to bluntness with age and many hunts.
As if the dreamer is there, the Dragon faces them. "Drem Yol Lok," the creature says with a pleasant voice. "I am Mirmulnir, Master of the Hunt for our Lord Hircine. I am here to tell you the portents of the Great Hunt, and other things. The portents for this hunt differ slightly, due to the changing of the world."
The Dragon turns his head that the dreamer may look into a black, pitiless eye. "The first portent will be werecreatures from the Hunting Grounds manifesting upon Solstheim. Unlike mortals blessed by Hircine, they will not revert to another shape on death or the fading of the moons from the sky. No matter how many are slain, they will continue to appear. Hunt them for practice, if it pleases you."
Mirmulnir turns his head to the other side, where an eye as red as fire looks out at the dreamer. "The second portent will be when Red Mountain gasps her last breath. Lord Hircine will send a moonlet, as Lord Sheogorath did, to put an end to her suffering."
The Dragon turned his head again, and his previously black eye has become white as snow. "The third portent is a blizzard, the likes of which Tamriel has not seen before."
Mirmulnir turns to face the dreamer directly again. "And, of course, the final portent is the blood moon. When Jone shines as red as Jode. When two red moons hang in the sky, hunters, ride for Nchardak. Ride for glory, ride for the Hunt."
The vision of Mirmulnir changes, so that only the dreamer and Dragon are visible.
"I have seen you from above, Hunters, and will now tell you your place in the Hunt." The Dragon's figure blurs and contorts, then solidifies. "If you are hearing this, well met. You will be a Hunter -- a bearer of our Lord's Spears. What are your names? Tell me, so I may sing to the Spear of Bitter Mercy, and the Spear of the Hunter the ones who will brandish them."
He is silent as he listens.
"Dulini of Orcrest, and Nen Undare of the Forsworn. Drem Yol Lok, Hunters. Commune amongst yourselves and come to an agreement on the Offices of this Hunt -- the rules by which glory may be won."
He is silent as he listens.
"You are in agreement, then? Let me repeat them back to you, to ensure no mistakes are made. First; that the Hunters and the Hares will be rendered immortal, except by the blades of your holy spears. Second; that the Hares will be moved to random spots in Nchardak's depths, for the Lesser Hounds to find, and drive into the open during the Drag. Then, in the Chase, your Greater Hounds will aim to fence them in, and call to you for your single combat with the Hare. Whomever presents to me two dead Hares, and two living ones will be victorious."
He is silent as he listens.
"The Hares may be victorious by slaying you, good hunters? Or by escaping Nchardak. Very well, it is a fair chance. I will remember your decisions, that I may annoint both you and the Hares with our Lord's blessings when it is time."
The Dragon's image begins to fade but stops abruptly.
"Hmm? I have failed to give you your hints about who will be taken alive? And who will you slay? Krosis, my apologies." The dragon spreads his wings and the vision changes.
Sinding, in a cave of ice alone, wrapped in furs against the bitter cold. "Sinding the Ungrateful is a coward, he fears death more than anything. He will fight desperately to live."
Kodlak, reading a book by candlelight. "Kodlak Whitemane is an old warrior, he does not fear death. He fears what comes after, that his life has been wasted. He will fight with honor."
Vasha, at a desk, counting cubes of moon sugar on a scale against lead weights. "Vasha is a hedonist, a lover of the physical world. He fears that which cannot be bought, bullied, or beaten -- but not death. He will fight, but only when pressed."
Farri, doing pushups in a well-lit stone room while a Dunmer woman places rocks on his back. "Farri is a prisoner. He does not fear death, he fears that his life, mostly spent in a cage, has been wasted. He will fight with fury the likes of which you have never seen."
The vision changes back to the dragon. "Your hints have been given. Choose well. Lok thu'um, hunters."
Suddenly, the dream ends.
---
SmashQueen
Professional duck-cat.
It seems those desperate to live, live. Those who are not, will not. Makes sense.
I think it's probably the other way around
Eh, it's probably a mix? It seems like they're all a mix of danger and glory to me. Vasha is the least dangerous on the surface, and also the least 'worthwhile'. On the flip-side, Kodlak is probably the most dangerous in straight combat, and the most glory to kill...but one of the least prey like of the targets. Farri meanwhile had been warned off as again one of the more threatening to hunt...but that same threat may make him more desirable. And then again, his crippling injuries and young age may make him less-so. Killing juveniles is never as impressive as killing adults, no matter the species. Finally we have Sinding. He's dangerous to be sure...but he's also the most prey-like of all the targets in terms of his actions. Kodlak will just fight, Farri will fight viciously, and Vasha seems like the type to be apathetic until forced otherwise. Sinding on the other-hand is a runner. And deranged hunting cultists almost certainly like chasing things. Add on that he specifically had negative descriptions, and I'm pretty sure he's one of the two 'kill' targets.
As for the rest...Kodlak is the more visibly threatening target, and he's also older (not gonna be a lot of good hunts for or by him in the future). On the surface, he's the other kill-target as challenging 'prey'. On the other-hand though...it might be that there's some logic that capturing 'prey' is supposed to be a more difficult act, and therefore the most glory to be had is by taking the strongest ones alive. Since Sinding is still certainly a dead coward running, it might be Farri and Kodlak that are supposed to be captured alive.
Finally though, getting into meta that wasn't part of the clues...Farri specifically intrigued Hirscine by fighting back, so he might have a death sentence so the Daedric Prince can all the sooner have some interesting prey for his personal hunt. And on the flip-side...there are two werewolves amongst these four. Werewolves that notably aren't playing by the game. Sinding by literally and figuratively fleeing, and Kodlak by flat rejection. And two non-Werewolves in Vasha and (probably) Farri. Killing the traitors and capturing the others to be forcefully converted as a 'reward' for whatever merits or behavior prompted them becoming Prey in the first place followed by their survival....well that seems like a very asshole Daedra thing to do.
As for the rest...Kodlak is the more visibly threatening target, and he's also older (not gonna be a lot of good hunts for or by him in the future). On the surface, he's the other kill-target as challenging 'prey'. On the other-hand though...it might be that there's some logic that capturing 'prey' is supposed to be a more difficult act, and therefore the most glory to be had is by taking the strongest ones alive. Since Sinding is still certainly a dead coward running, it might be Farri and Kodlak that are supposed to be captured alive.
Finally though, getting into meta that wasn't part of the clues...Farri specifically intrigued Hirscine by fighting back, so he might have a death sentence so the Daedric Prince can all the sooner have some interesting prey for his personal hunt. And on the flip-side...there are two werewolves amongst these four. Werewolves that notably aren't playing by the game. Sinding by literally and figuratively fleeing, and Kodlak by flat rejection. And two non-Werewolves in Vasha and (probably) Farri. Killing the traitors and capturing the others to be forcefully converted as a 'reward' for whatever merits or behavior prompted them becoming Prey in the first place followed by their survival....well that seems like a very asshole Daedra thing to do.
SmashQueen
Professional duck-cat.
So those who aren't willing to cling to life should live and those desperate enough to fight every inch should die? Is that it? I'm honestly puzzled.
2 Hares die, 2 Hares live. Since Farri is very likely one to live, then the hint needs to share something with the 2nd Hare. Which is probably Sinding. Thus finding parallels.
However, I know nothing of Hircine or Skyrim, and it's been a real long time since playing Morrowind. Mostly remember punching a guy for over a day to knock him out, an escort quest or two, falling through the world, and some dude turning into a wolf for punishment. There's probably something I'm missing here.
Edit:
Huh. Yeah I can see that, too. Didn't know there was another werewolf in there. Interesting!
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The whole inner-circle of the Companions, of which Kodlak leads, are Werewolves by tradition. That said, they are also deeply Nord. Kodlak, being both more traditional then most and old enough to be really feeling his mortality... isn't all that enthused with his current afterlife (joining in an eternal hunt as part of Hircine's pack) compared to joining his ancestors and probably most friends/family in Sovngard (default 'good' Nordic afterlife. Like Valhalla, but a little less strict in entrance requirements and no expectation for Ragnarok...y'know, so long as you aren't a mutt already soul-bound for the Wild Hunt).
Of course, it's a little unclear what exactly Farri is after the sacrificial ritual gone awry and his rejection of Hircine. He definitely isn't a standard Were, and he hasn't shown any signs of Were powers...but his heart is abnormal and there may be other shenanigans waiting to surprise us. As for Vasha...in the game he's general scum. A sort of higher-mook gang boss that admits to murder, theft, and rape. But we don't know if he's also a Were of some kind, and I'm honestly not sure if there are other kinds of sapient Were's period. He could also have some sort of curse/blessing from Hircine that qualifies him.
Ch 11
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Chapter Eleven: Time Undoing
---
Raven Rock
Reaver Hakar
The Thalmor left the island after the boss shouted at the negotiators in their kitchen. Jarl Ulfric's ship left that night, which left the gang hopeful for a return to normalcy.
Alas.
The boss had a fire lit under him, he was expanding their tunnels and training like his life depended on it. The boss had a new magic word which seemed to help him move and sculpt stone much easier than Nelos could -- 'Gol'. He watched the boss meditate and use the word to build a whole new tunnel from their gold mine to the ebony mine.
A couple days after the Jarl had left, Hakar and the boss were down at the harbor paying for fish for the town's food supply. As the boss carefully counted out drakes to the strange fishermen, Hakar built up his courage. Once they had gone, and the boss pulled along a wagon of fish with Hakar, he spoke up.
"Boss -- what's got you so… motivated?"
Farri looked up at him with his good eye, then focused his attention back on the road. Despite his small size, the boss wanted to pull as much as Hakar could, it seemed. "We're breaking the curse in a couple days. I have an idea for how to… deal with the Draugr, but I need to train in case it doesn't work."
Hakar glanced around, in case any of the newcomers or townies heard the boss. None seemed to have caught what he said. "I… thought we were waiting for House Redoran to leave before we did that?"
"Nelos and I have enclosed the mine -- no one can get in or out without us knowing. And, unfortunately, there is something down there this one will need to get." The boss' strength gave out, he had to take a moment to breathe before they moved the cart some more. "Khajiit… he will need to do something risky to prepare forthis idea."
"...You're lucky you're telling this to me," Hakar admitted with a shrug. "Whatever this is, it's still better than knowingly waking up a whole tomb of Draugr. Can you tell me what it is? All secret-words like?"
The boss looked up at him, his face grim. "He is going to need you guys to almost kill this one."
Those words stunned Hakar so intensely, he went about the next few hours in a daze. He watched himself distribute fish to the townies, then make fishing rods for his eventual return to the sea, all as if he himself was far away. He eventually came back to himself, as he sat in the mine's kitchen with a plate full of Berol's lovely cooking.
"What does he mean 'almost kill him'?"
Elam, who had been seated at the same table, looked up. He had opted to try a rice flatbread wrap called 'burrito' the boss had taught Berol, and had just taken a bite. "Hmf?"
Nelos had the same meal as Hakar, fishlung soup, looked up at Hakar like he was off-color. "What?"
Hakar stirred his soup, as he mentally woke up to where he was and what he'd been up to. "The boss said… he needed us to almost kill him? For a way to deal with the Draugr down below."
Nelos and Elam shared a look of severe worry. "Hakar… they're corpses. One hit, and they'll go down." The mage was dismissive of their undead neighbors.
"Perhaps." Hakar crossed his arms as he marshalled himself in the moment where he could lecture an elf. "But where do you hit them, then? Where do you hit an undead to get them to go down in one hit, hmm?" When neither of them answered, he continued with a solemn tone. "A two-handed sword can cleave a Draugr in half, and what do you have then? A pair of legs kicking you while their top hacks at you -- all while more Draugr show up."
"Fire magic," Nelos said and pointed at Hakar like he'd invalidated Hakar's entire argument. "Fire was how Vortisi lived in Bloodskal Barrow so long."
"Also true." Hakar graciously nodded. "But you and the boss are the only ones with fire magic. Should we let you two do all the work?" He let Nelos wilt a little. "Draugr crypts are dangerous. The boss was right to keep us from poking around down there and waking them up. Whatever he plans to do, to avoid fighting them? We should at least think about it." He sighed, and stared into his fishlung soup. "Even… if it seems bizarre."
"Khajiit is glad you agree," the boss said as he casually walked by their table. He acted like he'd been listening in the whole time, and ignored his gang's jumps at his sudden words. "When dinner is done -- join this one in the bath. He is ready to make an attempt."
Dinner was awkward after that, though the fishlung soup was delicious.
After dinner, Hakar went to the bath, and found Nenya, Rudrasa, and J'Saddha there already. They seemed ill at ease as they watched the boss fill the bath with cold water from the spring.
"Khajiit once heard a story of the poet god," Farri told them as he emptied bucket after bucket into the bath. "He went to the badlands, and made his feet weigh less than the divine so that he would not fall waist-deep into the earth."
That didn't match with any legends Hakar knew, but he supposed it did have some similarities to stories told about Lorkhan. Perhaps it was a Dunmer thing?
"He speaks about Saint Vivec," Rudrasa muttered when she saw Hakar's confusion. "The twelfth sermon -- where Vivec marries Molag Bal."
"...Your religion is weird," Hakar told her with a pinched face.
"Khajiit is not going to ask you to crush his feet, cut them off, or marry him to anyone," the boss told them and slipped his shirt and shoes off. "Just hold him below the water until he is close to drowning."
"Boss," J'Saddha rumbled as he stood and moved to flank the smaller Khajiit by the bath. "How will we know if it works?"
The boss looked up at him, at the others in the group, and then at the water. He sighed. "Khajiit doesn't know. It could very easily fail." He narrowed his good eye and looked up at the massive Khajiit. "Whisper the words 'Slen Tiid Vo' into Khajiit's ear when you pull him out."
With that, the boss hopped into the bath. He was so small relative to the basin that he floated in the water easily. Rudrasa and Nenya took up positions on either side of the basin, with their hands on the boss' shoulders.
"Hakar," J'Saddha said and pointed to a spot near where the basin met the wall. "Watch the boss in the water, let us know when to pull him up." Then, the massive Khajiit put his hand on the back of the boss' head, fisted his fingers in Farri's mane, and pushed him under the water.
Hakar had barely gotten in position before the drowning had begun. For a few seconds, there was no resistance as his friends held their boss under the water. Then the thrashing began.
Bubbles foamed around the boss' submerged head, his hands rose from the water to try and pry off the hands which held him below. His feet kicked wildly, desperate.
Nenya and Rudrasa had to grip the basin's edge to keep the boss below, while J'Saddha had to put only a little more effort into it.
Hakar tried to keep his eyes on the boss' submerged head, but he found himself glance at the faces of his friends. The boss had been good to them, so he understood their conflicted feelings. To his surprise, Rudrasa was the most visibly hesitant -- she had her eyes shut tight.
Nenya was resolute, but her elf ears were lowered -- a classic sign of fear. J'Saddha had his ears flat against his head, and his face grim.
After a minute and a half, the boss' arms started to go slack, his thrashing died down. Hakar kept his eyes on the boss then, in the hope that some magic would reveal itself. But nothing happened.
When the boss went totally limp -- Hakar remembered his job in their ritual. "Pull him out!" He shouted, and hoped it had not been too long.
Quicker than a cut could bleed, J'Saddha had the boss out of the water. He pulled the Dagi from the basin and laid him on the floor. "This one will get his heart beating -- you breathe for him!" He pointed at Nenya and started to push down on the boss' chest with both hands to a count.
Hakar and Rudrasa could only watch, and hope.
--
The Void
'I remember,' Vivec told me once, when asked if he recalled his mortality. Though I had never asked him. 'I do not feel it. I can, if I choose, remember the feeling. But I do not choose.' His face curled as he said those words.
'How like Azura you have become,' I told him without hesitation.
Similarly without hesitation, he struck me in the face, and parted my head from my shoulders. And then time rewound, and I did not say those words. Vivec did not strike me in the face. And he did not curl his face when he spoke about his mortality.
'It is very, very sad being mortal.' Vivec seemed weary when he spoke. 'There is happiness, yes. But mostly sadness.' A single tear fell from his blood-red eye.
'It began here. It will end here.' Said Dagoth Ur, though I had never stood before him. 'Have you any parting words?'
I felt such pain and regret well up inside, I could not fight back a question -- no matter how Her ring burned on my finger. 'Is it meaningless to apologize?'
The Sharmat was silent, for a time. He looked at me, and I could almost see the eyes behind his mask. 'Never,' he answered with a voice as soft as a chime.
'I should have trusted you.' And my wife used poisoned candles. 'But I didn't.' And my teacher used poisoned robes. 'And we both died because of it.' And my brother used poisoned invocations. 'I'm sorry.'
'I wish….,' Voryn Dagoth told me with that same soft voice. 'I wish that there was enough mortal left in me to forgive you.' A single tear flowed from eyes that vanished into pits of a godly visage.
Two tears. Two sentiments of mortality, one of grief and the other regret, one for each eye. But three was the most perfect number.
Wulf rubbed me behind my ears, just as he did all those years ago. 'Old dog doesn't get new ideas.' He answered a question I had never asked with a soft voice, reserved for me. He'd never used that soft voice with his wife, or with Barenziah. Just me.
Once upon a time, that had been enough. But that was long ago. 'Just one lifetime as a god, and you feel set in your ways?' I asked him, unable to make myself smile like I used to. That special smile, just for him. '...It's not too late to make amends. Walk among them again.'
Wulf shrugged. 'I don't know. Could be messy….' In that moment, he was the shrinking violet I had first met, lifetimes ago. 'Change is never pretty.'
As he had reached out to hold my face, I reached out for his. It hurt, but I was able to smile in that old way again. Just for him. One tear, filled with hope, fell from my eye.
Sadness. Regret. Hope.
From the void, yellow eyes and winding tendrils wrapped around these three tears. 'Ah,' a soft lyrical voice said, as if in utter bliss. 'This will pay for what you desire.'
The tendrils took those tears, copies of memories, and left knowledge in their wake.
--
Raven Rock Mine
Reaver Nenya
The boss was awake, but not 'awake awake'. His eye was open, it would blink or sometimes follow a person, but he didn't move. He didn't speak. For five fucking days, it had gone on that way. The gang was restless about why the boss didn't get out of bed, they had rumors fed to them by Nelos and Elam of a ritual. Completely true, of course, but rituals shouldn't take almost a week, right?
Nenya didn't know. But as the closest thing to a second in command the gang had, she took over for those five days. She had Hakar and J'Saddha take shifts watching the boss, while she made sure everyone had food, was paid, and that nothing attacked the town. For a time, she was a sellsword company commander again.
Officials from Skyrim came to Raven Rock frequently, often they would simply swing by to Councilor Morvayn's manor for signatures then depart. Morvayn didn't keep a mage on staff, so they had to use physical transport. But just as often she would catch wind of people asking about their gang, about the boss, and the state of life on Solstheim.
As far as she could tell, the gang was never approached for comment.
Nenya had been out in Raven Rock, patrolling the town square to watch the locals and the newcomers -- those odd sightseers -- when she saw Hakar run like Molag Bal chased him. The archer beelined for her -- and had to take a moment to catch his breath before he spoke.
In that moment, she feared the worst. That the boss was truly gone, and she had to plan for the gang's future.
"He's back," Hakar gasped out. "Talking, walking. Says it's time to go downstairs -- wanted me to get you."
Then it was Nenya's turn to run. Up the hill, through the mine entrance hall, down the stairs and to the boss' room. The boss was indeed up, on his feet, and had dressed himself. All things, over the past five days, Nenya had started to lose hope in seeing.
Farri jabbed a Riekling spear repeatedly in the air, then practiced spin-and-slash attacks with the weapon. "Hrm," he muttered when he was done. "Too heavy in the front -- stone tip is probably to blame." He looked over his shoulder, saw Nenya, and waved. "Hey. Khajiit is back, after a long nap."
She wanted to hug the little jerk -- she'd been this close -- to accepting he'd been mentally crippled by the ritual. But she reigned it in, took a deep breath, and stood straight. "Glad to have you back, boss. We're going downstairs, hmm?"
He nodded. "Khajiit has what he needed. It might not work, but even if it doesn't…." He shrugged. "Sharp metal and crushing stone can solve most problems."
While they walked down winding paths from the home they'd made in the upper portions of the mine, Nenya felt a childish need to ask questions of the boss. To pester him with 'why' questions or 'how'. The need wouldn't subside, so she tried to appease it.
"Why did it take five days for you to come back, boss?"
Farri sighed and rubbed his mane -- a bit shorter due to J'Saddha's shearing claws. "Khajiit got lost."
Nenya's eyebrows threatened to launch from her forehead like loosed arrows. "Lost?"
"Khajiit got lost!" The boss threw his hands up. "It is very dark in the Void, yes no?"
"You were in the Void?"
"Oh, look!" The boss pointed with his spear at two side tunnels thoroughly webbed up. "Frostbite spiders -- not as good as albino spiders, but Khajiit can use them to make bandages and clothes."
Nenya was thrown off by that as they walked passed the alleged spider tunnels. Frostbite spiders could range from the size of a hand to the size of a horse and carriage. They were big predatory spiders, common in Skyrim. "You… can make clothes from the spiders?"
"From spider silk -- is not difficult. Khajiit can teach it to Nelos, maybe set up a loom. He has been looking for a hobby -- why not become a tailor?"
The boss led her down to the very bottom of the excavation pit, where there was a tunnel to go even deeper. It was boarded up, but they had no problem getting through. That worried Nenya, because Draugr should have no problem getting out, then.
The locked steel door on the other side was a much more effective way to keep them back.
"Bex", the boss said once they got through. The door promptly unlocked itself, and swung open.
"That's… a real neat trick," Nenya observed while they went down a wooden walkway on the other side. An excavation chamber shored up by centuries-old wood was at the end of the walkway. Parts of Nordic ruins were exposed, and a second tunnel.
Through that tunnel they went, and the air became moist. Plantlife grew on the sides of the tunnel, and on the barrow alcoves that lined the walls once they had passed through. A sprawling room was revealed, partially collapsed, with most of the barrow alcoves empty.
Several pools of water had formed on the floor, with steady streams that leaked down from the ceiling. The natural spring the boss had tapped must have worked its way down to the tomb at some point in the past several thousand years.
"Right… this is make or break time," the boss said and stomped repeatedly in a puddle. "Draugr! Wake up! Volaan! Volaan!"
Some of the more mummified corpses in the barrow alcoves stirred at the noise. Their joints creaked as desiccated flesh moved. Garbed in heavily eroded armor, Nordic dead rose and advanced on them with glowing eyes.
Nenya drew her scimitar and made ready to fight.
But the boss stood there, and let them advance steadily. "Come on," she heard him mutter. "Khajiit needs you all in one spot…."
The rubble in the chamber created a choke point, where the dead had to cluster together to approach the intruders. Their ancient blades still gleamed in the minimal light.
Once they were densely packed, the boss took a deep breath.
"Slen! Tiid! Vo!"
A gust of wind accompanied the boss' shout, and a wave of purple fire flew from his lips. The Draugr raised worn shields or their arms to protect against an attack, but when it struck them they all let out keening wails.
The weapons slipped from their hands, their shields fell away. The dead were coated in pulsing purple energy that moved over them like burning grease. They screamed -- horrible wailing sounds -- that echoed through the chamber.
And their flesh -- their flesh began to swell. Cold clammy meat reddened, then settled on pink. Empty veins swole in their limbs and neck, right before Nenya's eyes.
The most sickening part were when the effect took hold of their faces. Long-gone noses regrew. Hair thickened. Glowing blue points in black eyes faded until they blinked, and suddenly they were normal eyes. Human eyes.
As the effect took greater hold, they became more flexible. They writhed and clutched their bellies, and screamed with more human voices.
The dead, before Nenya's eyes, came back to life.
"This… is what you did the ritual for?" She asked but never took her eyes off the seven -- now living -- Nords on the floor.
"It is." The boss' good ear twitched. "Really… really wish that one guy had pants."
The Nords didn't seem to speak the common tongue, they didn't react to what the two intruders said. After their revivification, they took minutes to process what had happened to them. They looked at each other, at themselves. They felt their skin, and pinched their flesh.
First they had screamed, then they had been silent, and as they realized what had happened, they laughed. Laughter became joyful shouts as they spoke to each other in a different language.
Nenya could pick up a word or two in places -- it was the same language the boss used for his odd magic.
"Khajiit doesn't know if these are dragon cult loyalists or Miraakians," he whispered back to Nenya. "Be prepared to fight anyway." Then the boss stomped in the puddle again, to get their attention. "Wo hiiu aam?"
The boss spoke their language, Nenya realized at the same time the ancient Nords did.
They looked at him, confused, then whispered to each other.
"Kaaz?" "Gein miin?"
The one woman of the group, a blonde with a helmet decorated with antlers, slapped her forehead with sudden realization. "Tiid vo? Tiid vo? Wo wahl tiid vo?" She looked around at her fellows. "Gein miin kaaz? Tiid vo? Los Magni!" Her tone was that self-assured one teenagers would use to convince their friends they were right.
In that horrifying moment, Nenya realized how young all the Nords looked. They couldn't be older than twenty when they had died.
"Oh fucks all kinds of ducks," Farri muttered and pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Magni?" "Los Magni?"
"Are they saying something about Magnus?" Nenya asked. What did the god of the sun and magic have to do with 'tiid vo'-ing? She held her sword up as the female Nord pointed at her.
"Magni!" Ecstatic to have figured it out, she pointed then down at the boss. "Los Magni!"
"Khajiit hates it when he accidentally fits ancient religions." Farri sighed. "Wo hiiu am?!" He asked the question again, frustrated. "Miraak? Alduin?! Wo?!"
The ancient Nords considered, then fell on their knees.
"Fuck fuckity fuck-fuck-fuck," the boss muttered and Nenya couldn't help but mirror that sentiment.
"Wu aam Magni!"
---
Dontcha hate it when you try to avoid a fight against over a hundred undead and they decide to worship you for using godlike power to bring them back to life?
Being the dragon pope sounds good on paper, but the ancient Nords were so needy....
---
Raven Rock
Reaver Hakar
The Thalmor left the island after the boss shouted at the negotiators in their kitchen. Jarl Ulfric's ship left that night, which left the gang hopeful for a return to normalcy.
Alas.
The boss had a fire lit under him, he was expanding their tunnels and training like his life depended on it. The boss had a new magic word which seemed to help him move and sculpt stone much easier than Nelos could -- 'Gol'. He watched the boss meditate and use the word to build a whole new tunnel from their gold mine to the ebony mine.
A couple days after the Jarl had left, Hakar and the boss were down at the harbor paying for fish for the town's food supply. As the boss carefully counted out drakes to the strange fishermen, Hakar built up his courage. Once they had gone, and the boss pulled along a wagon of fish with Hakar, he spoke up.
"Boss -- what's got you so… motivated?"
Farri looked up at him with his good eye, then focused his attention back on the road. Despite his small size, the boss wanted to pull as much as Hakar could, it seemed. "We're breaking the curse in a couple days. I have an idea for how to… deal with the Draugr, but I need to train in case it doesn't work."
Hakar glanced around, in case any of the newcomers or townies heard the boss. None seemed to have caught what he said. "I… thought we were waiting for House Redoran to leave before we did that?"
"Nelos and I have enclosed the mine -- no one can get in or out without us knowing. And, unfortunately, there is something down there this one will need to get." The boss' strength gave out, he had to take a moment to breathe before they moved the cart some more. "Khajiit… he will need to do something risky to prepare forthis idea."
"...You're lucky you're telling this to me," Hakar admitted with a shrug. "Whatever this is, it's still better than knowingly waking up a whole tomb of Draugr. Can you tell me what it is? All secret-words like?"
The boss looked up at him, his face grim. "He is going to need you guys to almost kill this one."
Those words stunned Hakar so intensely, he went about the next few hours in a daze. He watched himself distribute fish to the townies, then make fishing rods for his eventual return to the sea, all as if he himself was far away. He eventually came back to himself, as he sat in the mine's kitchen with a plate full of Berol's lovely cooking.
"What does he mean 'almost kill him'?"
Elam, who had been seated at the same table, looked up. He had opted to try a rice flatbread wrap called 'burrito' the boss had taught Berol, and had just taken a bite. "Hmf?"
Nelos had the same meal as Hakar, fishlung soup, looked up at Hakar like he was off-color. "What?"
Hakar stirred his soup, as he mentally woke up to where he was and what he'd been up to. "The boss said… he needed us to almost kill him? For a way to deal with the Draugr down below."
Nelos and Elam shared a look of severe worry. "Hakar… they're corpses. One hit, and they'll go down." The mage was dismissive of their undead neighbors.
"Perhaps." Hakar crossed his arms as he marshalled himself in the moment where he could lecture an elf. "But where do you hit them, then? Where do you hit an undead to get them to go down in one hit, hmm?" When neither of them answered, he continued with a solemn tone. "A two-handed sword can cleave a Draugr in half, and what do you have then? A pair of legs kicking you while their top hacks at you -- all while more Draugr show up."
"Fire magic," Nelos said and pointed at Hakar like he'd invalidated Hakar's entire argument. "Fire was how Vortisi lived in Bloodskal Barrow so long."
"Also true." Hakar graciously nodded. "But you and the boss are the only ones with fire magic. Should we let you two do all the work?" He let Nelos wilt a little. "Draugr crypts are dangerous. The boss was right to keep us from poking around down there and waking them up. Whatever he plans to do, to avoid fighting them? We should at least think about it." He sighed, and stared into his fishlung soup. "Even… if it seems bizarre."
"Khajiit is glad you agree," the boss said as he casually walked by their table. He acted like he'd been listening in the whole time, and ignored his gang's jumps at his sudden words. "When dinner is done -- join this one in the bath. He is ready to make an attempt."
Dinner was awkward after that, though the fishlung soup was delicious.
After dinner, Hakar went to the bath, and found Nenya, Rudrasa, and J'Saddha there already. They seemed ill at ease as they watched the boss fill the bath with cold water from the spring.
"Khajiit once heard a story of the poet god," Farri told them as he emptied bucket after bucket into the bath. "He went to the badlands, and made his feet weigh less than the divine so that he would not fall waist-deep into the earth."
That didn't match with any legends Hakar knew, but he supposed it did have some similarities to stories told about Lorkhan. Perhaps it was a Dunmer thing?
"He speaks about Saint Vivec," Rudrasa muttered when she saw Hakar's confusion. "The twelfth sermon -- where Vivec marries Molag Bal."
"...Your religion is weird," Hakar told her with a pinched face.
"Khajiit is not going to ask you to crush his feet, cut them off, or marry him to anyone," the boss told them and slipped his shirt and shoes off. "Just hold him below the water until he is close to drowning."
"Boss," J'Saddha rumbled as he stood and moved to flank the smaller Khajiit by the bath. "How will we know if it works?"
The boss looked up at him, at the others in the group, and then at the water. He sighed. "Khajiit doesn't know. It could very easily fail." He narrowed his good eye and looked up at the massive Khajiit. "Whisper the words 'Slen Tiid Vo' into Khajiit's ear when you pull him out."
With that, the boss hopped into the bath. He was so small relative to the basin that he floated in the water easily. Rudrasa and Nenya took up positions on either side of the basin, with their hands on the boss' shoulders.
"Hakar," J'Saddha said and pointed to a spot near where the basin met the wall. "Watch the boss in the water, let us know when to pull him up." Then, the massive Khajiit put his hand on the back of the boss' head, fisted his fingers in Farri's mane, and pushed him under the water.
Hakar had barely gotten in position before the drowning had begun. For a few seconds, there was no resistance as his friends held their boss under the water. Then the thrashing began.
Bubbles foamed around the boss' submerged head, his hands rose from the water to try and pry off the hands which held him below. His feet kicked wildly, desperate.
Nenya and Rudrasa had to grip the basin's edge to keep the boss below, while J'Saddha had to put only a little more effort into it.
Hakar tried to keep his eyes on the boss' submerged head, but he found himself glance at the faces of his friends. The boss had been good to them, so he understood their conflicted feelings. To his surprise, Rudrasa was the most visibly hesitant -- she had her eyes shut tight.
Nenya was resolute, but her elf ears were lowered -- a classic sign of fear. J'Saddha had his ears flat against his head, and his face grim.
After a minute and a half, the boss' arms started to go slack, his thrashing died down. Hakar kept his eyes on the boss then, in the hope that some magic would reveal itself. But nothing happened.
When the boss went totally limp -- Hakar remembered his job in their ritual. "Pull him out!" He shouted, and hoped it had not been too long.
Quicker than a cut could bleed, J'Saddha had the boss out of the water. He pulled the Dagi from the basin and laid him on the floor. "This one will get his heart beating -- you breathe for him!" He pointed at Nenya and started to push down on the boss' chest with both hands to a count.
Hakar and Rudrasa could only watch, and hope.
--
The Void
'I remember,' Vivec told me once, when asked if he recalled his mortality. Though I had never asked him. 'I do not feel it. I can, if I choose, remember the feeling. But I do not choose.' His face curled as he said those words.
'How like Azura you have become,' I told him without hesitation.
Similarly without hesitation, he struck me in the face, and parted my head from my shoulders. And then time rewound, and I did not say those words. Vivec did not strike me in the face. And he did not curl his face when he spoke about his mortality.
'It is very, very sad being mortal.' Vivec seemed weary when he spoke. 'There is happiness, yes. But mostly sadness.' A single tear fell from his blood-red eye.
'It began here. It will end here.' Said Dagoth Ur, though I had never stood before him. 'Have you any parting words?'
I felt such pain and regret well up inside, I could not fight back a question -- no matter how Her ring burned on my finger. 'Is it meaningless to apologize?'
The Sharmat was silent, for a time. He looked at me, and I could almost see the eyes behind his mask. 'Never,' he answered with a voice as soft as a chime.
'I should have trusted you.' And my wife used poisoned candles. 'But I didn't.' And my teacher used poisoned robes. 'And we both died because of it.' And my brother used poisoned invocations. 'I'm sorry.'
'I wish….,' Voryn Dagoth told me with that same soft voice. 'I wish that there was enough mortal left in me to forgive you.' A single tear flowed from eyes that vanished into pits of a godly visage.
Two tears. Two sentiments of mortality, one of grief and the other regret, one for each eye. But three was the most perfect number.
Wulf rubbed me behind my ears, just as he did all those years ago. 'Old dog doesn't get new ideas.' He answered a question I had never asked with a soft voice, reserved for me. He'd never used that soft voice with his wife, or with Barenziah. Just me.
Once upon a time, that had been enough. But that was long ago. 'Just one lifetime as a god, and you feel set in your ways?' I asked him, unable to make myself smile like I used to. That special smile, just for him. '...It's not too late to make amends. Walk among them again.'
Wulf shrugged. 'I don't know. Could be messy….' In that moment, he was the shrinking violet I had first met, lifetimes ago. 'Change is never pretty.'
As he had reached out to hold my face, I reached out for his. It hurt, but I was able to smile in that old way again. Just for him. One tear, filled with hope, fell from my eye.
Sadness. Regret. Hope.
From the void, yellow eyes and winding tendrils wrapped around these three tears. 'Ah,' a soft lyrical voice said, as if in utter bliss. 'This will pay for what you desire.'
The tendrils took those tears, copies of memories, and left knowledge in their wake.
--
Raven Rock Mine
Reaver Nenya
The boss was awake, but not 'awake awake'. His eye was open, it would blink or sometimes follow a person, but he didn't move. He didn't speak. For five fucking days, it had gone on that way. The gang was restless about why the boss didn't get out of bed, they had rumors fed to them by Nelos and Elam of a ritual. Completely true, of course, but rituals shouldn't take almost a week, right?
Nenya didn't know. But as the closest thing to a second in command the gang had, she took over for those five days. She had Hakar and J'Saddha take shifts watching the boss, while she made sure everyone had food, was paid, and that nothing attacked the town. For a time, she was a sellsword company commander again.
Officials from Skyrim came to Raven Rock frequently, often they would simply swing by to Councilor Morvayn's manor for signatures then depart. Morvayn didn't keep a mage on staff, so they had to use physical transport. But just as often she would catch wind of people asking about their gang, about the boss, and the state of life on Solstheim.
As far as she could tell, the gang was never approached for comment.
Nenya had been out in Raven Rock, patrolling the town square to watch the locals and the newcomers -- those odd sightseers -- when she saw Hakar run like Molag Bal chased him. The archer beelined for her -- and had to take a moment to catch his breath before he spoke.
In that moment, she feared the worst. That the boss was truly gone, and she had to plan for the gang's future.
"He's back," Hakar gasped out. "Talking, walking. Says it's time to go downstairs -- wanted me to get you."
Then it was Nenya's turn to run. Up the hill, through the mine entrance hall, down the stairs and to the boss' room. The boss was indeed up, on his feet, and had dressed himself. All things, over the past five days, Nenya had started to lose hope in seeing.
Farri jabbed a Riekling spear repeatedly in the air, then practiced spin-and-slash attacks with the weapon. "Hrm," he muttered when he was done. "Too heavy in the front -- stone tip is probably to blame." He looked over his shoulder, saw Nenya, and waved. "Hey. Khajiit is back, after a long nap."
She wanted to hug the little jerk -- she'd been this close -- to accepting he'd been mentally crippled by the ritual. But she reigned it in, took a deep breath, and stood straight. "Glad to have you back, boss. We're going downstairs, hmm?"
He nodded. "Khajiit has what he needed. It might not work, but even if it doesn't…." He shrugged. "Sharp metal and crushing stone can solve most problems."
While they walked down winding paths from the home they'd made in the upper portions of the mine, Nenya felt a childish need to ask questions of the boss. To pester him with 'why' questions or 'how'. The need wouldn't subside, so she tried to appease it.
"Why did it take five days for you to come back, boss?"
Farri sighed and rubbed his mane -- a bit shorter due to J'Saddha's shearing claws. "Khajiit got lost."
Nenya's eyebrows threatened to launch from her forehead like loosed arrows. "Lost?"
"Khajiit got lost!" The boss threw his hands up. "It is very dark in the Void, yes no?"
"You were in the Void?"
"Oh, look!" The boss pointed with his spear at two side tunnels thoroughly webbed up. "Frostbite spiders -- not as good as albino spiders, but Khajiit can use them to make bandages and clothes."
Nenya was thrown off by that as they walked passed the alleged spider tunnels. Frostbite spiders could range from the size of a hand to the size of a horse and carriage. They were big predatory spiders, common in Skyrim. "You… can make clothes from the spiders?"
"From spider silk -- is not difficult. Khajiit can teach it to Nelos, maybe set up a loom. He has been looking for a hobby -- why not become a tailor?"
The boss led her down to the very bottom of the excavation pit, where there was a tunnel to go even deeper. It was boarded up, but they had no problem getting through. That worried Nenya, because Draugr should have no problem getting out, then.
The locked steel door on the other side was a much more effective way to keep them back.
"Bex", the boss said once they got through. The door promptly unlocked itself, and swung open.
"That's… a real neat trick," Nenya observed while they went down a wooden walkway on the other side. An excavation chamber shored up by centuries-old wood was at the end of the walkway. Parts of Nordic ruins were exposed, and a second tunnel.
Through that tunnel they went, and the air became moist. Plantlife grew on the sides of the tunnel, and on the barrow alcoves that lined the walls once they had passed through. A sprawling room was revealed, partially collapsed, with most of the barrow alcoves empty.
Several pools of water had formed on the floor, with steady streams that leaked down from the ceiling. The natural spring the boss had tapped must have worked its way down to the tomb at some point in the past several thousand years.
"Right… this is make or break time," the boss said and stomped repeatedly in a puddle. "Draugr! Wake up! Volaan! Volaan!"
Some of the more mummified corpses in the barrow alcoves stirred at the noise. Their joints creaked as desiccated flesh moved. Garbed in heavily eroded armor, Nordic dead rose and advanced on them with glowing eyes.
Nenya drew her scimitar and made ready to fight.
But the boss stood there, and let them advance steadily. "Come on," she heard him mutter. "Khajiit needs you all in one spot…."
The rubble in the chamber created a choke point, where the dead had to cluster together to approach the intruders. Their ancient blades still gleamed in the minimal light.
Once they were densely packed, the boss took a deep breath.
"Slen! Tiid! Vo!"
A gust of wind accompanied the boss' shout, and a wave of purple fire flew from his lips. The Draugr raised worn shields or their arms to protect against an attack, but when it struck them they all let out keening wails.
The weapons slipped from their hands, their shields fell away. The dead were coated in pulsing purple energy that moved over them like burning grease. They screamed -- horrible wailing sounds -- that echoed through the chamber.
And their flesh -- their flesh began to swell. Cold clammy meat reddened, then settled on pink. Empty veins swole in their limbs and neck, right before Nenya's eyes.
The most sickening part were when the effect took hold of their faces. Long-gone noses regrew. Hair thickened. Glowing blue points in black eyes faded until they blinked, and suddenly they were normal eyes. Human eyes.
As the effect took greater hold, they became more flexible. They writhed and clutched their bellies, and screamed with more human voices.
The dead, before Nenya's eyes, came back to life.
"This… is what you did the ritual for?" She asked but never took her eyes off the seven -- now living -- Nords on the floor.
"It is." The boss' good ear twitched. "Really… really wish that one guy had pants."
The Nords didn't seem to speak the common tongue, they didn't react to what the two intruders said. After their revivification, they took minutes to process what had happened to them. They looked at each other, at themselves. They felt their skin, and pinched their flesh.
First they had screamed, then they had been silent, and as they realized what had happened, they laughed. Laughter became joyful shouts as they spoke to each other in a different language.
Nenya could pick up a word or two in places -- it was the same language the boss used for his odd magic.
"Khajiit doesn't know if these are dragon cult loyalists or Miraakians," he whispered back to Nenya. "Be prepared to fight anyway." Then the boss stomped in the puddle again, to get their attention. "Wo hiiu aam?"
The boss spoke their language, Nenya realized at the same time the ancient Nords did.
They looked at him, confused, then whispered to each other.
"Kaaz?" "Gein miin?"
The one woman of the group, a blonde with a helmet decorated with antlers, slapped her forehead with sudden realization. "Tiid vo? Tiid vo? Wo wahl tiid vo?" She looked around at her fellows. "Gein miin kaaz? Tiid vo? Los Magni!" Her tone was that self-assured one teenagers would use to convince their friends they were right.
In that horrifying moment, Nenya realized how young all the Nords looked. They couldn't be older than twenty when they had died.
"Oh fucks all kinds of ducks," Farri muttered and pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Magni?" "Los Magni?"
"Are they saying something about Magnus?" Nenya asked. What did the god of the sun and magic have to do with 'tiid vo'-ing? She held her sword up as the female Nord pointed at her.
"Magni!" Ecstatic to have figured it out, she pointed then down at the boss. "Los Magni!"
"Khajiit hates it when he accidentally fits ancient religions." Farri sighed. "Wo hiiu am?!" He asked the question again, frustrated. "Miraak? Alduin?! Wo?!"
The ancient Nords considered, then fell on their knees.
"Fuck fuckity fuck-fuck-fuck," the boss muttered and Nenya couldn't help but mirror that sentiment.
"Wu aam Magni!"
---
Dontcha hate it when you try to avoid a fight against over a hundred undead and they decide to worship you for using godlike power to bring them back to life?
Being the dragon pope sounds good on paper, but the ancient Nords were so needy....
- Location
- Netherlands, Under the sea
Any chance you can post a translation of the Dragon Tongue/Ancient Nordic or whatever they are speaking? I mean i can get most of it from context clues and whatnot but confirmation would be nice.
- Location
- Sweden
- Pronouns
- She/Her
If someone asks if you are a god, how do you respond Farri?
Chairtastic
Anything's a chair if you're brave enough
- Location
- Breakfast nook
- Pronouns
- He / Him / It
Wo hiiu aam -- Who [do] you serve.
Slen tiid vo -- flesh time undo.
Kaaz -- Cat/Khajiit.
Gein miin -- one eye.
Wo wahl tiid vo -- who makes time undo / lit who create time undo.
Los Magni -- [It] is Magni.
Khajiit hasn't filled out the paperwork.
- Location
- Planet Earth
please include the translations when having characters speak other languages... maybe in Parenthesis. Cuz I really dislike jumping between tabs in an attempt to translate things.
Chairtastic
Anything's a chair if you're brave enough
- Location
- Breakfast nook
- Pronouns
- He / Him / It
They're a mixed bag, but they're also smelly and dirty from not bathing for literal thousands of years.
It won't happen often, but translations have been provided in a follow up post!
KleverKil'Vanya
Ortillery Operator
Just remember sometimes people will pay alot for that service!
Make sure to charge reasonable rates
SneakyWalrus
Is the Water Free?
You know, I wonder if Creation Club content is canon here as of the Anniversary Edition of Skyrim. If so, the monetary woes of the Redoran in charge of Solstheim become even more hilarious considering that there is a massive temple to ALSMIVI a literal 2-minute walk up a hill from the settlement of Raven Rock, and one that has literal multiple massive Ebony veins all throughout its cavernous system. Even funnier considering that for all the religious strife (which is even funnier because in-game they will purge the temple if you tell them about it), they completely missed it.
So not much different from a regular Nord then? Hey-o
Honestly, I'm not sure. I can't actually recall any notable characters by the name of Magni in lore, and the closest I can think of is the Magna Ge, which would be akin to being an Angelic figure moreso than a divinity-in-flesh.
So not much different from a regular Nord then? Hey-o
Honestly, I'm not sure. I can't actually recall any notable characters by the name of Magni in lore, and the closest I can think of is the Magna Ge, which would be akin to being an Angelic figure moreso than a divinity-in-flesh.
magna-ge is a name for the dorks who got scared and followed magnus in backing out on the creation of nirn
its hard to say w confidence but i would suppose the magna-ge would be to magnus as a dremora is to a daedra, ye