A.N. Hullo again, surprise.
Been a while since last chapter but as all those who have universities with exam session instead of having them spread throughout the year, exam month happened, so I could only start writing when that shit ended, passed all of them, so yay me.
Meant to post this yesterday, but as we all know, the world likes to kick me while I'm down and my computer crashed, forcing me to rewrite the last paragraph.
Anyway, here is the chapter, enjoy.
Work Started 18 march 2021, Work Finished 1 April 2021.
Chapter 4
Arthur let out a sigh of relief, looking at the small village little down ways of the cliff he was in, it took two days of no stop walking, but he had finally reached Kynesgrove and got out of those damned steam plains.
He began to walk towards it, before stopping himself, remembering yet again the state he was in.
"God. Fucking. Dammit." he cursed, turning back towards a tree using alteration on it to shape for himself a wooden mask to go under his helmet, hoping that it would suffice, and started to walk again towards the village.
It was fairly early in the night, the last rays of the sun still streaking the sky in violet hues, but the town almost seemed already asleep, with only some of the farmers out in the fields, who luckily paid him no heed apart from the occasional glance or two, immersed as they were in their jobs.
He reached the inn fairly quickly, a quaint little place called the Braidwood inn, made of sturdy stone and wood, from where a merry song was coming from.
He entered it, the warm and sweet air assaulted his senses, even with his muted senses he could still feel the smell of roasting pork and flowing mead, He thought wistfully for a moment about eating the food, before remembering that he was still a skeleton, and so couldn't eat.
He shook his head, deciding that now was not the time to think about that, and went towards the Barkeeper, a portly, balding man with a jovial smile.
"Salutations, what can I do for you stranger?" he asked while wiping a soapy tankard.
"How many money for room?" asked Arthur, winching at how he must have sounded, especially given the look the innkeeper gave him "Sorry, me not good enough with language yet, how much for a night here?" he asked with a shrug, watching relieved as the innkeeper seemed to calm down.
"It's 10 septims a night, 15 if you want breakfast tomorrow" he said tending his hand towards him.
Arthur reached into his backpack, grabbing the pouch of septims he pilfered putting 10 septims into the innkeeper's palm, getting a key in return.
"Thank you, third room to the left." He said pointing to one of the rooms behind him, throwing a key in his direction which Arthur barely managed to catch.
He went to his room, closing the door shut before dropping on the bed, almost feeling the soft mattress below him.
He sighed, driving himself up again, dropping down his weapons from his back and setting them on the chair before him and dropping again on the bed, relishing on the moment of pause he had finally gained back.
He opened the system window, looking at the last new window with a thoughtful look on his face.
Elemental Weakness: Due to your nature you are more vulnerable to elemental attacks.
"Well… fuck me" he muttered dejected "I can't go to Winterhold like this, if before I had a shadow of a chance to flee Winterhold if things turned south now… now I got Zilch, Nada, Poof" he said to himself, removing his mask and helmet, looking at it with desperation "I am fucked."
"What the hell do I do now, I… I need to rethink my whole fucking strategy." He gnashed, setting down the mask with a sigh.
"Alright, the college is a bust, I could try my hand with the dark brotherhood, if there is someone who lacks morals is them… yeah, no, I neither have the money, nor the lack of morals necessary to work with them."
"I'd go to the Thieves guild, but I wouldn't trust Mercer as far as I could throw him, and I doubt I could throw him that far as it is" he muttered, his hands mindlessly scratching his bony chin.
"This leaves the companions, probably my best option right now that doesn't carry with it the immediate risk of death." He thought, before immediately stopping and screaming in his hands.
"Jesus Christ, what has my life become that that phrase makes sense?" he asked to himself, the stupidity of the situation finally reaching him.
"You know what, fuck this shit, I'm going to worry about planning tomorrow, that's a problem for future me, Now? Now I'm going to see if Skeletons can sleep" And so, one hundred percent done with the situation he had found himself in, Arthur laid down on straw the bed, closing his metaphorical eyes and, for the first time since he found himself in this situation, he relaxed.
His mind asleep and not asleep at the same time, closer to a waking haze than full alertness, sleeping the sleep of the sleepless.
The Next Day
A knock at the door was what 'woke' up Arthur the next morning alongside an earthy voice calling for breakfast.
He 'opened' his eyes, getting up from the bed with a whine "It matters not whether this body is alive or not, old habits die hard I guess" he muttered, taking the opportunity to stretch for a moment.
He grabbed the mask from where he had put it, slipping it on with barely a thought, putting on the helmet to be sure and removing the Chair blocking the door, getting out of the room and heading towards the main hall.
He greeted the owner who was just finishing serving another couple of inn guests.
"Good Morn' do you want any breakfast? We got some good Mutton and onion soup today, only 5 septims" he said with a grin, as he went behind the counter.
"No don't worry, rather, is there a place where I can buy some supplies?" Arthur replied crossing his arms as if in impatience.
"Well, ya might try the Siril's shop, little downwards from here, can't miss it really, has a big bear's head mounted on the door." He said as he bent down to pick a dirty mug and start cleaning it.
"Many thanks." he muttered before giving him the room key and heading towards the door, closing it quietly behind him.
He took a breath of the fresh, crisp morning air and headed towards Siril's Shop, a small building at the edge of town, with a bear's head dangling in the wind for a sign, holding a carved piece of wood between its maws.
"Well, that's not macabre at all" Thought Arthur with an amused grin before heading inside.
The inside was… honestly better than he expected, the walls were adorned in hunting trophies, mostly Deer and Elk antlers, with the lone wolf here and there, behind the counter stood a young-looking Breton man nose deep inside a book.
"Er, Hello?" said Arthur, looking amused as the Breton reacted like a startled cat, throwing away the book and falling from his chair, groaning in pain and clutching his head.
"Damn, wear some bells why don't you." He muttered grabbing the counter to steady himself up, righting himself and saying with a steady voice and embarrassed face "Welcome to Siril's shop, we sell hunting and traveling gear, I am Erold, Siril's son, what do you need?"
"Oh, I just need a tent and… I don't suppose you have any carving tools, do you?" he asked, gliding his hands on the wood carving of animals on the shelves.
"Aye to both, got only a small tent though, If you need anything bigger you'll have better luck going to Windhelm and buying one there," he said, turning towards the back of the shop and grabbing two bundles, while quietly complaining about the war, thinking that maybe Arthur would not hear him speak.
He returned shortly after with a rolled-up tent and a wooden box "Here you go, if there is nothing else you need then it'll be 84 septims."
"No nothing else, here you go." said Arthur, giving the required amount to the shop owner and pocketing the goods.
He went out of the shop with a sigh feeling his purse much lighter than before, but still, some things were needed, and it wasn't like he didn't have any idea on how to fix that problem.
And so, humming a jaunty tune he headed towards the forest, slipping his bow from his back and heading off to hunt.
He went deeper and deeper in the forest, the light from the morning sun dimming under the emerald foliage, lighting up the forest in hues of green and yellow, and there, almost hidden behind the trees, stood a herd of deer.
He looked over towards the animals, nocking an arrow and aiming towards one of the Bucks guarding the herd, and with a sigh, he let loose.
It flew true, hitting the buck in the chest, deep enough to pierce the lungs and heart, yet still, it refused to die.
Arthur rushed towards it, uncaring of the running herd, drawing a dagger and stabbing it in the brain through the bottom of the jaw, being careful not to damage the skull too much.
+10 Exp
He dismissed the window with a glance, using a cloth to stop the blood from overflowing, he'd need most of it later.
He grabbed the carcass and started dragging it towards a clearing he had seen before, and started to set camp, unfurling the tent and making a fire pit, in preparation for what he needed to do later.
He went towards the tree line, using alteration on the oaks to make a wooden urn and a small staff, a simple cylinder of a meter.
Using the leaves and part of the bark to make a basket and strips of bark to quickly make a sturdy rope, tying it to the buck's legs and heaving it up, placing the urn below it, ready to catch the blood that it will spill.
He quickly removed the cloth and used his dagger to deepen the cut on the throat, letting the blood end up inside the jug.
He cut it open from throat to navel, removing all the organs except the heart and putting them a long way from the camp for predators to find.
He started skinning the deer, removing everything apart from the meat, setting it aside for later before cutting away even the meat, putting it inside the basket to sell it later at the village.
It was only after he was left with the bones and tendons that he stopped and went to grab his carving tools.
Now, there are multiple ways to make a staff, one was like it was shown in the game, bring an unenchanted staff to an enchanting station, crush a soul gem and use the sacrificed power to create the staff.
Unfortunately, that requires an enchanting station, and he neither had one at his disposal nor had the slightest idea on how to make one.
Then there is the Falmer way… which consists of the ritualistic murder sentients, shoving their remnants into a pupating charrus alongside powdered soul gems, and hope it doesn't explode.
Apart from the incredibly dubious moral implication of such a thing (I.E. what the fuck) that tends to create less potent and more temperamental staffs.
'It's honestly a wonder that it didn't explode when I started to mess with it' Arthur thought as he finished the last touches on the fur, putting away the blood jug and cleaning the last smudges on the ritual circle, the clean daedric markings glowing slightly red under the midday sun.
He carefully lowered the carved skull and spine inside the painted circle, the daedric runes carefully carved on them so that the enchantment would take hold, no matter the shape it would find itself in.
He planted the wooden rod in the center of the circle, and with but a spark of magic, the ritual began to take shape.
The bones started to crumble, turning into dust, flowing inside the rod turning it from the yellowish-brown of before to an ash white colour, the daedric runes flashed before flowing like water, imprinting themselves into the wood, carving their meaning into it before fading back to a pale silver.
And just like that, it was over.
+200 Exp
Enchanting 0 -2͖͖̩̟̖̳̣̈̽͑̊̀1.
The Apprentice steps (Enchanting) level 20 level cap removed.
A̷̹̎̄s̶̤͒ ́̿al̴̃ͅw̶̯̳͋a̷͙̺͐ȳ̸̜̯s̶̞̆, ̶̦̌̋h̵͕͊ị̷͋̈ͅs̶͙̼̚ ̴̡̦̓m̴̝̚iń̑ḋ̶͈ p̵̗̌͛ē̶͇͕̽n̵̞̫̿e̵͍͎̍̾ḏ̸̢́ ́ẗ̵̪ō̶͖͛ ̴͕̥́t̷̮̰̓̕h̃ḛ̸̓̄ ̶̫̌͊K̵̺̂ṉ̷̄ŏ̶͎̮wl̴̢̯͗͊ȅ̶͍̞̄ḍ̴͕̏g̴͉̎̆é̵͇,̴̧̩̐ ̶͐͜nè̷͉͕w̵̠̓ ̷̘͑̀a̷̗̅r̴̙̜̆͐t̵̡̩́s̴̫͈̄ ̶̡͘ͅḍ̶̱̒įs̶̜͒ćô̵̰v̶̩̅e̶̠͉̓͝r̷̳̀̽e̶͎̚d̷̞͈͊́ ̶̄̀͜a̴̝͋͆n̴͙̂d̴̳͒̈ ̴̯͓̔l̶̙̫̏͗os̷̢͑t̵̪͕̃̿,̵̨̂̂ͅ ̴̘̰̐̔l̴͖̹̇ḙ̷̈ș̵͎͌̽s̷̢̟̃̏ò̵̻̳ņs̶̡̅͘ ̴̬͙͑͝l̴̫͝ę̷̃a̵̗͇̍r̵͇̆n̶͔̊́ẻ̸̪̼d ̶̣̣̿́a̵̼͑n̵̻͈͋͊ḓ̶̡͗̒ ̶̘̿f̀o̷̩͓̚r̵̺͙͆̌g̴̟̽ỏ̸̗͛t̴̢͋̊t̴͚̚e̶̼͋ͅn̴̛͙,̶̻͒̏ͅ ̴͔̝͊̿lè̷̙̤a̵̢̪͂v̶̢̗̀̔ī̷̱ǹ̸͓g̴͖̲͂ ̶̘̾͝b̴͙̓̕ẻ̸̤͕͌h̷̊̌͜ị̸̓͘nd̵̬̓͐ ̴̠͋f̷̖̾ṙ̷͙̚ąg̵͎̎mn̷̻̓̏t̵̠͊̉a̴̱̾ͅr̷̨̓y̶̰̑̿ ̶̒ͅḱ̕ņ̷̑̃o̶̱̽̊w̷̘̉l̴̤̾̈́ê̶̥̕ͅḏ̴̼́̀ǵ̷̥͈ḙ̵̖̇̎ ̃͑o̷̻̩̐̍f̵̤͍͗ ̴̝̦͠w̵͎̙͆̒h̶͂ͅa̵͇̣̾̅t̷̙̃͘ ̶̜̗̒́w̶̤͊a̴̱̋̂s̴͙͛̎ ̷̟̌a̶̳̓̆n̷͎͒͆d̷̼̮̽ ̶̦̎i̵̝̓s,̵̪͒̈ ̷̪̠̑be̶̬̠̿͒f̷̲̺̉o̷̩̺̊r̶͍̺͝e̷͑ͅ ̶̡͖̀l̷͉̍͠e̶̡͑a̴̐̀ͅv̵͉́̋į̷̍̄ng̷̪͒̉ ̷̥̏̆h̵̨͛̃ím̶̨̘̎̾ ̵͓̋́a̶̧̢͝͝g̷͇͐̕a̶̛͇̙ì̵̪̈́n Arthur shook his head and dismissed the window, feeling the now familiar headache vanish little by little.
He grabbed the staff, feeling it answer back to the call of his creator, almost like a puppy greeting his owner.
He smiled, before turning towards one of the trees and letting his magic course through hit, as if he was molding a spell, watching with glee as Frost started to build on the tip of the staff, trusting it forward as an arrow of ice crashed on the tree before him, stabbing deep and leaving a twisted hole behind.
This was the reason why he had chosen this method, despite the time needed to create this kind of staff or the fact that the costs of the spells came now not from a soul gem but his own magic if less than they would be without it.
It was the most malleable, its enchantment more a channel, a conduit for his magic than spell ready to be cast, it was like the difference between a dagger and a swiss army knife, while one might have been slightly better in direct combat the second one had more utility, which was what he needed right now.
He relaxed for a moment, switching from his frost to a fire spell, letting the tip catch fire before extinguishing it with a thought, with not even a hint of soot remaining on the staff.
Arthur nodded and put it down, placing it near a tree, freeing his hands and bundling up the now clean fur, and putting it away near the basket for later.
He sat down beneath the tree, staff beside him as he grabbed the Warhammer, carefully looking it over before placing it down, deep in thought "What should I do with you?" he muttered "I wanted to use you for the staff, maybe making another spear staff, but that would rob it of its versability" he thought, alighting the staff with fire, slowly forming a sphere on the tip before dispelling it.
"Could probably make a sword out of you, or an axe, hell even keeping you as a Warhammer would not be out of the question if it wasn't for your shoddy craftsmanship, but maybe…" he muttered, using alteration to snap the head of the shaft, the material turning almost liquid as it glistened in his hands, flowing over his gauntlets, crumbling away from the old iron and replacing it with the new material they were composed of, letting their cold and ice settle in his bones like an old friend.
He felt it keenly, the cold that they brought, a welcome feeling after days of experiencing nothing but pressure and sight.
He summoned an Icicle spear in his hands, watching with glee as it danced over his gauntleted palms, stronger and sturdier than before, he dismissed with a thought, before summoning a firebolt, nothing with relief that despite his new gauntlets giving power to the element reflecting of their nature, it didn't diminish his fire.
"Well, that worked, would have been a waste of time otherwise" he muttered before closing his hand, dispelling the spell, and rose from the ground, throwing the now useless Warhammer shaft into the pile of kindling for tonight bonfire.
"I wonder…" he muttered as he picked up his staff, {Alter} magic coursing through it, thinning the staff and thickening the handle, before a blast of frost erupted from it, coating the sides in a sharp layer of ice until what he held in his hands resembled more a blade of pure ice than the staff from before.
Spell Created
[Combination Spell(Alteration/Destruction subclass): Catalyst's Weapon: Coat your catalyst with an element of your choice, and shape it to your will, the power of this spell scales with the skill of its user.
He gave it a twirl, moving through some stances to gauge the weight and feel of it "Feels kind of weird" he muttered as he moved it through the air before he set it down "While I can deal with it might be better to make a special catalyst for it, should be more practical, and less conspicuous." He said to himself, dismissing the icy blade with but a thought, restoring the staff to its original shape and putting it on his back.
He stretched a little and popped his back, letting out a sigh of relief before dropping down on the ground, his back against the grass, simply staring at the midday sky.
"What do I do now?" he asked to himself, trying to find something to do to lose himself into 'I can't do nothing, I can't think while doing nothing' he thought with a grimace, before sighing, standing up and leaning against a tree "Might as well look over my skill tree, see if there is any interesting Skill that I can pick that will help me."
[Skills & Perks]
He opened the window and started looking through it, his gaze passing over without a thought over the Blocking and Light armor skills, the perks while useful in their own right useless to him right now, the same went for the pickpocketing and Sneaking tree, he almost passed over Speech as well, before his eyes were drawn back to it, nothing a small change to the seal blocking his access to it, it had become darker, duller and almost more brittle, more old Iron than the Strong steel from before.
"Must be the fact that I finally learned to speak the local language, don't know why it is still locked trough… ah well, thoughts for later." He muttered as he passed on, ignoring for the moment alchemy even as he swore that he would investigate it later, remembering fondly the days were he became a mortal god in the game just by abusing it and Enchanting both.
He turned his eyes to the 'Warrior' skills, His eyes glossing over the Blocking tree, useless for him now, almost doing the same for the Smithing tree before a thought stopped him.
He looked at his hands, at how the gauntlets moved, how they were composed, and all the imperfections that they had "Could I do a better job with the perk?" he muttered, almost tempted to pick up the Steel Smith perk immediately, before his reason won over his recklessness and he moved on to the other perks, swearing to pick it once he was done.
He looked over the other perk trees, ignoring the two-handed tree for now and focusing on the one-handed, deciding right away that he'd put another perk point into it out of straight principle since it was the edge he needed to stay alive in those first few days.
He shifted over to the heavy armour tree, confused on how a perk could make his armour protect him more, before deciding to go back to it later, adding it to the 'maybe' list.
He moved his eyes to the last six perk trees, and the ones he was most hopeful of.
He started with the enchanting tree and immediately slammed his head on the nearest tree 'I am a fucking idiot' he thought as he looked at the first perk of that tree.
[Enchanting Mastery] 1/5: Increases the Power by 20% of any enchantment created while under the effects of this perk.
'And like a fucking moron I made the staff before buying this' he thought as he looked dejected at the staff, wondering how much better he could have made it, before finally biting the bullet and buying the perk.
Whatever he had thought would happen didn't, the rush of knowledge, of memories, didn't come crashing into him like water from a dam.
It was instead like a river, flowing calmly into his head, less changing and more… strengthening, widening what knowledge he already had, his staff making skills broadening in scope, expanding to cover the basic of enchanting any item, from the merest blade to the sturdiest armour.
Arthur let out a sigh, looking over at his staff, in the end, he did a good job while creating the staff, everything was as it should be, even if a few changes to the runic loadout could have made its effects… crispier, easier to actuate rather than anything else.
"At least I'll know how to make the next catalyst better, and it's not like I did that bad of a job with this one." He said to himself, fiddling with the staff before setting it down on the grass, keeping his eye on the perk tree.
Several of those perks interested him, mostly the Staff wielder tree, its bonuses seemed nice, that and the fact that it was a combat style focused on using staves both in close quarters and at a distance just… spoke to him.
'I am Ape, and ape uses Stick' he thought with a chuckle as he finally passed over the enchanting tree and to the next one, the restoration tree.
And here his cheer died.
Most of the perks there were useless for him, both at the moment and in the future, he feared.
From the Poison to the Healing to the Necromancy path, all useless for him except maybe the last one, and even then, they would require him to invest much, much more than he could now, and so, with a dejected sigh, he passed over the next tree.
The Alteration tree.
And it was there that he found the jackpot.
Alter Self Branches, metamagics, pocket universes and the basics for Dimensional Travel, truly he had never been happier to have chosen Alteration as his first Branch.
'Calm Down you moron, look at the costs, these things require at
least level 40, and even then, only for the most basic of the Alter Self Perk.'
He thought as he looked at the requirements ' But even still… I need to try' And so with hope and resolve in mind, he picked the First Perk of the Alteration Tree.
[Alteration Mastery 1/5]: Increases ease of Alteration magic and decreases the costs of Alteration spells by 10%. Increases Power of alteration spells by .5% for every level of the Alteration Skill.
He waited for the usual rush of knowledge, bracing himself against a tree in preparation… but nothing came.
"What the hell?" he muttered as he read over the window that appeared before him "Competence tested; aid removed…. Are you fucking kidding me? If I pick the perk point after I get the skill over 20 I get no instruction to go along with it? Goddammit" he snarled, almost punching a tree in anger.
'Fucking hell, and I only have one perk point left…. I might have been too rash in picking them up earlier.'
He thought as he realised, he still had to look over 3 skill trees, the destruction, conjuration, and illusion tree.
The illusion tree was unfortunately out, the perks in it were both unsuited to his style of fighting and would not really help him in his situation.
The same went for the conjuration tree, he was staying away from Daedra until he was sure of what he was about to mess with, something he couldn't do while being untrained and in the wild, and the less said about the Necromancy path the better.
So even that perk tree had to be shelved.
In the end, only the destruction tree was left, and despite it being a Darling, as always, it would just give him a more cost-effective way to use destruction magic, something that he had already remedied by using a staff so that one was shelved for later.
In the end, he was left with 2 possible choices, the Smithing or the heavy armour perks.
'At this point it isn't even a choice' he thought as he selected the Steel Smith perk, figuring out that it would synergise the best with his alteration magic, that and the fact that the one-handed perk would probably give him no more knowledge, given that he already got the first level perk, as for the heavy armour tree… he just could not see how getting more out of his armour could help him at the moment, or at least how it could help him more than knowing how to make better armour would.
This time the memories came through in a rush, with the song of fire and coal, of hammer and anvil and iron and steel, 8000 years of blacksmithing passed through his mind like Lighting through a clean sky, leaving behind only traces of those memories and the basics of forging metal and shaping steel.
Arthur let out a sigh, closing his eyes as the system-induced headache started to go away.
He stopped for a moment, letting it drain out of him before he closed the system window and looked at his gauntleted hands, slowly changing the shape and drawing away the excess iron alloy and steel, ending up with almost a fourth of it back because of it.
He looked at the rest of his equipment, grabbing one of the blades he had shaped before, frowning at its soft edge and too heavyweight, trying to [Alter] it back on how it should be, before grunting at his failure, placing it back on the ground disgruntled, its edge still too soft, its weight only barely better.
'I need to get better with Alteration Magic apparently, while I got the general shape and weight down all the rest is still much, much worse than I can do by hand' he thought dejected looking at his armour with new eyes, shoring up the weak spots and removing the extra weight that he was now starting to notice, feeling it already more balanced on his body.
He let out a sigh of relief as he stretched, his back free of weight he didn't even realise had been there.
He turned his eyes to his meagre camp, a half-set tent and a recently dug firepit, barely enough to be called liveable, but then again, it wasn't like he had been there for long… or was going to 'Live' there for that matter.
"If I want to stay here for any length of time I really need to fix this place, if only for the sake of my mental health than that of my body…" he muttered scratching his bony chin before with a sigh he looked towards the trees that surrounded the small clearing "I'm going to need to cut a ton of trees," he said with another sigh "But first I need to go back to the village, got to sell the meat before it starts to go bad… that and I got a letter to send".
.
.
.
4 days later, City of Whiterun, 4 Era.
It was a quiet day inside the hall of Jorrvaskr, or as quiet a day in the hall of the Companions of Skyrim, the proud warriors of Ysgramor, could be.
Most of the people inside were either those sporting a massive hangover for the last night celebrations, something which happened almost every night, those returning from the previous day job, thus incredibly tired and wishing more a nice warm cot than a mug of beer, or the members of the Inner circle, incredibly well rested despite the rowdiness of the previous night.
It was at this scene that a haggard courier came knocking at the door, holding a bag by his side.
The hall inhabitants turned towards him in askance, wondering for whom the courier had come for.
"Ah, uh, I have a letter for the Harbinger of the companions, I have been told to give it to him or one of the Inner circle." he muttered nervously before most of the occupants turned away from him, returning to what they were doing previously, not caring for him in the slightest anymore.
He looked around, looking for someone to help him complete his task.
"Give it to me" muttered a gruff voice belonging to a Bald, scarred man who walked towards the courier "Ah, you are Skjor aren't you?" He said as he started searching inside his satchel for his parcel, before bringing up a small stack of letters and handing them to him.
"Thank you" he replied, nodding to the courier and proceeding downstairs, where the Harbinger waited for him.
He walked through the underground halls, amidst the trophies of past conquests from the companions of old, till he reached a spartan room, deep inside the complex, where Kodlak The Harbinger resides.
He knocked at the door, waiting for a moment for the old man to bide him to enter.
"Kodlak, a courier came knocking in just a moment ago, apparently someone just sent you a letter," Skjor said, closing the door behind him as he set the letters on the table before the two, sitting down on the chair before him.
"Thank you Skjor," he said as he put down the heavy tome on his hands to pick up the letters, grabbing a dagger by his side to use as a letter opener.
He started to read the first letter, raising a curious brown while doing so before his eyes widened as he started to read faster and faster, his eyes flitting through the page until he reached the end and slammed the page into the table.
"I'm going on a mission to Dustman's Cairn and I'm taking Aela and Vilkas with me, you are in charge while I am gone" he said as he got up from his chair, grabbing the Skyforged Warhammer hanging on the wall.
"Wait what? Kodlak, what got you so spooked, what was in that letter?"
"It's on the table for Shor's Sake just read it," Kodlak said as he tried to put on his breastplate, sighing in relief as he felt its weight rest on his back once more.
He moved on to put on the rest of his armour as Skjor picked up the letters and started reading.
Kodlak the harbinger.
I have some information for you and your inner circle.
I know of the curse that afflicts you and yours, and how in your last days you wish for more than the hunt.
As a cursed man myself I think of you as a kindred spirit, so please believe me when I say this.
I know how to free you from your curse.
Unfortunately, this is not information that can be given lightly, I will be in Kynesgrove for the time being if you wish to know more.
If you wish to test my words, then know this.
There is a fragment of Wuuthrad in Dustman's Cairn, the first entrance has a false wall, beyond that wall resides the whole complex, it is, unfortunately, chock full of Draugrs, so be careful.
If that does convince you then I'll wait for you in Kynesgrove, just ask the Inn owners about it and they'll bring you to me.
I'll be waiting.
A Friend.
"…What?" Skjor asked as he finished the letter, his eyes widening as he finally understood the ludicrous message in it.
"You do realise that this is probably a trap?" he asked as Kodlak finished preparing himself for the mission.
"I have only spoken to another about my wish to rid myself of the curse, and that man is standing right before me" he said, looking at him with steel in his eyes.
"Whoever sent us that letter already knows enough to bury us, or at least throw enough doubt in our direction, but he didn't; So, I am inclined to trust him, and even then I'm still going to Dustman's Cairn to verify what he told us."
"And what if you are wrong?"
"Then I am going to find him wherever he may be hidden and crush his skull beneath my heel for deceiving us"
And so, the discussion ended and they both parted ways, one to go on to his quest and the other to look over the training of the new recruits.
It wouldn't be until late at night that Skjor saw Kodlak again, exhausted but proud, in his hands a fragment made with a familiar metal.
"It's true then, what the letter said," Skjor said, passing a tankard of mead to Kodlak as he slowly sat down.
"It seems to be that way." He said after he finished his tankard in one go before putting it down on the table.
"We'll have a feast tomorrow for the return of one of the fragment, after it Me, Falkas and Aela will go retrieve this 'friend' of ours, I need you and Vilkas to stay here and look after the rest of the recruits, make sure that if anything happens to us the guild will still have someone to lean on." He said while grabbing a plate and stuffing it with food.
"Are you sure you three will be enough? This could still be a trap." Skjor said, reclining back on the wooden pillar, looking towards Aela with a frown.
Kodlak snorted noticing where, or rather who Skjor was looking at "Who are you more worried about, the Guild or her?" he said with a chuckle.
"Don't worry my friend, Nothing will happen, and even if worse comes to worst it will be the three of us against him, if numbers won't cut it then we'll use 'that'"
"… I just hope you are not making a mistake my friend."
"I know Skjor, I know."
.
.
.
They left the city the day after the feast at the crack of dawn, paying a caravan to bring them to Kynesgrove as soon as possible, fortunately being unbothered by any bandits during their short trip, and so they made it there in time, having traveled for barely 2 days.
They looked on at the small village, heading inside the Inn and asking the whereabouts of the man who sent the letter to the innkeeper.
"Oh you mean Arthur?"
"Is there anything that you can tell us about him?"
Vilkas asked dropping a purse full of septims before the innkeeper.
"Of course, Of course," He said, pocketing the bag and putting it under the counter "Quite a strange fellow, for some reason he decided to make himself a house in the forest instead of the village, can't really miss it, the man even carved a path through the forest, quite strange for a man who seems to prefer the solitude won't you say?" he said with a smirk as he pocketed the septims bag in his pants.
They thanked him and proceeded towards the forest, following a recently beaten path inside of it, keeping their hands on their weapons just in case.
The group finally reached a simple house of wood and stone, its door fully open for anyone to enter and the sound of metal beating metal echoing from behind it.
They walked around it, finding a man covered from neck to toe in rough leather and a metal helmet not unlike those of the Breton knights on his head, hunched over an anvil, a smith's hammer alight with a green glow hammering away at cherry hot steel, shaping it faster than it had any right to.
Kodlak cleared his throat, trying and failing to get the stranger's attention "Ahoy Stranger" he yelled, startling the man "Are you the one who sent the letter?" he asked, waving the item in question in the air.
The man took a look at it and gave a hearty laugh "Of course, are you seeing anyone else here? Honestly, I thought you'd come sooner oh harbinger" he said with mirth in voice, placing the hammer down on the anvil and sticking the metal into the still-burning coals.
"I had to make sure you were who you said you were, it is hard to be trusted when you won't even give a name, nor meet us face to face," Kodlak said resolutely, he had come there for answers and not to be mocked by strangers.
The man stopped, tilting his head in thought "You are right, of course, my mistake, it is hard to trust a man who won't show his face," he said, raising his hands to his neck, clasping and removing a well-hidden leather strap "Very well then, let me show you my curse, oh blessed warriors of Hircine." he said with a sarcastic snort, making the Companions clutch their weapons in preparation, but even that would not stop the surprise they felt by seeing what the helmet had hidden.
A Bleached, mismatched skull looked back at them, its jaw Orcish and its skull Nordic, pale blue light looked back from where the eyes were supposed to be, its face forever set in a grin.
And then the undead spoke, tilting his head towards the entrance of his house.
"Well, Kodlak the Harbinger, Vilkas and Aela of the Companions, won't you come inside?" he asked while turning his back to the frozen trio, stepping on the threshold of the door before turning his back to them.
"After all, we have much, much to discuss."