Chapter 3. In which Ra'jirra has a Skinful of Skingrad

Now while I was waiting for Gunder to open – his place is Colovian Traders, across from the guildhall, I heard someone hissing at me. It was a Bosmer, who kept looking at my left ear while telling me that he had to see me behind the chapel at midnight. Then he took off while looking over his shoulder. I just shook my head and swapped loot for Gunder's money. I also asked about Mr Wierdo, and had to sweet-talk the info out of him. Apparently the drongo's Glarthir, and as far as I know he still fronts up behind the Skingrad chapel waiting for me. Stuff him.

The first Skingrad mage I met was an Argonian woman called Druja. She was fairly snotty at first, but apparently it's because Adrienne Berene, the guild head, is a bit vague at times, absent-minded and all that. She also asked if I'd seen someone called Erthor; no, I hadn't. One barmy Bosmer at a time for me.

And wouldn't you know it! Adrienne wanted me to find Erthor! Oh well. Erthor's lucky day. I ended up asking around and learned where the dopey sod had been exiled to – Bleak Flats Cave, and as it turned out because Adrienne had sent him there.

"You might like to remind her," says Druja, "that it wass her idea." And she sort of looks upstairs with contempt as she says that. So I did, and Adrienne ended up giving me another fire spell. Now this one wasn't a quick blast of heat, it was a slower burn. This is something to know: spells that hit hard and fast need more power than spells that kind of gnaw at the victim's ankles. Even if they do pretty much the same damage. Just like choosing between hitting someone with a bloody great battle-axe as opposed to wearing them down one dagger-stroke at a time.

I also picked up some other deadly spells of death as well, but as it turned out they were bloody useless. When you're messing with the undead, you need fire. I got into the drill of smacking zombies with an arrow from cover first, then launching fireballs. Seems they were bailing up Erthor and he couldn't get out. And he wouldn't tell me what the hell was going on!

The rest of the guild were as tight-lipped. Druja wouldn't say either, but she relaxed a bit when I showed her the nirnroot. Apparently Sinderion's the resident brewer of the classier establishment in town, so I popped into the basement where Sinderion resided.

-o-o-o-o-

Sinderion was another bloody Altmer who had the pallor that comes from staying indoors all the bloody time, and a cough that might have had something to do with the fumes from his assorted brewings and experiments. He wasn't pleased to see me at first, but his eyes fair fell out when he saw all the nirnroots I collected! "Where did you get all these?" he cries.

"Anvil," says I, "and around the coast there. Usually where there's rocks and water."

"Remarkable!," says he, "Tell me, can you find some more?" and off he goes explaining about an old book he had which turned out to have a recipe using nirnroot in it. For a few hours running around, I have to admit I was interested; the most I could do with them was make draining poisons.

I took a bit of a scenic route. Headed out to Bleak Flats again then cut east towards a copse Sinderion'd marked for me. Unfortunately there was a goblin cave en route – nasty little buggers – then I headed back south. I ran across Derelict Mine, but when I saw more gobs – dead, this time, and praise unto the Imperial Legion for that! - I thought "stuff it" and headed south and ran across a cave labelled Bloodcrust. No gobs this time – it was bloody vampires! I didn't know, I thought "oh, bandits" and didn't change my mind until I got a good look at the first one. Then I downed a fresh feather potion, lifted the most promising loot and beat it.

I was already starting to feel a bit strange, and Agnete the Pickled cut ceremony short, saying, "Now get outa here! I'd rather be pickled than sick!"

So what do you do when lurgi strikes? Well, for some reason I immediately thought of the chapel. Maybe I didn't have a potion. I can't remember. I do know that the priest attendant gave me the stink-eye all the time I was there. I mean, by the Nine, I was scared, of course a man runs to the altar!

-o-o-o-o-

So I turn to leave and almost walk straight into this Redguard guardsman with a "don't muck me around" expression. A bit like dad when he'd caught me out in a lie, or wagging on my chores.

"A little bird tells me you've been asking about Glarthir," he states. Not asks, states. In that way which asks if you want to get caught in an obvious lie. Maybe he'd taken lessons from dad.

"Damn right," says I, "There I am waiting for Gunder to open shop, and he fronts up and says meet me round the back of the chapel here. And he's never seen me before, as that was my first time in Skingrad! Of course I try to find out who this drongo is."

"Well," says he, "since you've been honest with me, let me tell you: Glarthir's crazy."

"Say no more," says I, "I'll stay away from the dork."

"No, no!" says he, "I keep an eye on him, and I'd appreciate it if you'd let me know if he asks you to do anything strange. Just ask for Dion if you can't find me."

So I'm all yes sir and three bags full sir and I decide that I need to get away from Skingrad sharpish. I don't like vampires and I don't like hanging around potentially dangerous crazy people. Then again writing this I reckon you could lump a fair few of the Mage's Guild in the latter group.

Anyway Sinderion was delighted I had the ten nirnroot he needed, so I decided some nice quiet foraging was in order. I headed south past Bloodcrust to an Ayleid riun, Silorn, which sits at the headwaters of the river keeping Cyrodiil and Valenwood from banging into each other. No nirnroot, so I wobbled north via Howling Cave (undead), Fort Vlasterus (vampires again), and finally reached Grayrock Cave which I rested up in after clearing away some imps.