Tirdas, the 9th of Hearthfire, 4E201
"Thane, I am really asking you to reconsider this."
Lydia tapped her foot on the ground, her arms crossed and brows furrowed. While she did understand the importance and main goal of their trip to Gjukar's Monument, she still felt… uncomfortable regarding Saya's slightly off-putting enthusiasm.
"I already told you, Lydia, it's not graverobbing if we're saving the world," the Dunmer chirped and promptly continued shoveling the ground in front of the massive carved monolith. The object of her search eventually revealed itself when a recognizable shine of bone became visible in the dirt. "And there it is! Alright, I think it's best you step away and cover your ears. You know, just in case."
"Yes yes, I know." The housecarl rolled her eyes. Saya then unsheathed Stormblade, holding it with both hands as she stabbed it into the dirt, as though making markings. She wiggled the sword left and right as she removed it each time, and soon the ground around the skeleton was littered with small pits and cracks.
Saya looked over to Lydia and gave her a thumbs up, to which the black-haired woman nodded and placed both of her hands over her ears. The Dragonborn returned the nod and closed her eyes, taking a deep breath and-
"FUS, RO DAH!"
The booming Shout shook the air around them as the shockwave sank into the soil. In rapid succession, each crack grew larger as chunks of earth were ripped out of the ground, some even flying up into the air before landing a few steps away. Lydia scrunched her nose and coughed, wiping the dust off her face once it began to settle. While she did agree to the plan earlier that day, seeing the results first-hand made her regret that decision just a little bit. Not enough to be vocal about it, but the thought would be there for a while.
By the time her vision cleared, the Dunmer had already been digging up whatever little of the corpse still remained under the dirt and brushing it off. She could see that some of the bones were fractured, probably a consequence of the earlier Shout. Wouldn't be surprising, given the power. The housecarl approached her and crossed her arms yet again, now that they were free.
"...So now we have a really old corpse," she stated after a few seconds of silence.
"A Dragonborn corpse," Saya shot back, her voice noticeably raspier.
"I mean, it's still a corpse." A black eyebrow was raised. The bones themselves didn't look like anything special to her. Just an old skeleton, cracked and covered in hundreds of years' worth of filth. She couldn't help but frown in repulse. At least the organs were long gone. If the sight wasn't disgusting enough, then the smell would've certainly tested her ability to resist her gag reflex. "Do you have any ideas on what to do with it?"
"A couple, and either of them may or may not work. Now come on, give me a hand here." Saya beckoned over her housecarl, carefully pulling the skeleton out of the ground and seating it in front of the monument. Carefully, she dusted off the bones before kneeling down in front of them. Not wanting to interrupt, Lydia only watched in uneasy silence.
Saya took a deep breath and calmed herself, emptying her mind of all unnecessary thoughts while she searched for a feeling. The tickling, burning, pulsing sensation of a dragon soul being nearby. Faint, but growing with every moment. She thought back to the dragons she had slain, and how from their remains she'd pull out the light that would become their immortal soul, ready for devouring…
"...alright, this isn't working. Plan B it is." The Dragonborn stood up, dusting herself off.
Startled, Lydia cleared her throat and did her best to make the bored expression vanish from her face. "Ah- sorry, plan what?"
Saya turned around, both hands at her hips and her head tilted in confusion. "Plan B? Y'know, backup plan?"
"No, I mean- you had a plan B?"
"Why, who do you take me for?" The Dragonborn grimaced in mock surprise, though a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth betrayed her true feelings. She didn't last a full second before breaking into a chuckle. "Okay, so technically this is plan C. I had a couple ideas prepared, just in case."
As the realization slowly sank in, Lydia's expression turned into a stony thousand yard stare. "Dare I ask what plan A was?"
The Dragonborn shrugged. "The ghost just kind of... waiting for me by the time I got close, I guess?" Lydia's palm got audibly reintroduced to her face. Saya snickered. "Anyway, I'm going to need you to cover your ears again. There shouldn't be any debris, but this might get loud. Better safe than sorry."
Lydia obliged, quietly grumbling under her breath and taking multiple steps back. Just in case.
Saya, in the meantime, opened her mouth and vocalized quietly, one hand rubbing her neck to help relax her throat. The recovery period had already passed, sure, but that simply meant that if she were to Shout right now she wouldn't end up coughing up blood - and while that is still a very good thing, the pain and discomfort did not vanish as quickly. As such, the Dragonborn preferred not to take risks unless she was on a strict time limit.
Well, not those particular risks, anyway.
Of course, there's always a moment of doubt before attempting something you have never done before. Saya's tongue felt a bit sluggish in her mouth, like she knew what to say but not how. But she reassured herself: it worked with her before, and she knows how it happened. It won't be difficult to replicate. And besides, she once read a book that said it works.
And books don't lie, right?
...right?
Ah, fuck it.
"DOV-AH-KIIN!" The rumbling words left her lips and she immediately dropped down to her knees, clutching her head with both hands. The sound of her own voice bounced on the inside of her skull, pounding at her temples harder and harder with each reverberation. The Dunmer shook her head violently to try and throw off the sensation, and heaved in relief when the noise started to subside. She slowly opened her eyes, and through the haze she could see the blurry silhouette of Lydia shaking her by the shoulders.
"-ou okay?!" The ringing in her ears still persisted to an extent, but she could make out the question. Wrapping one arm around the housecarl's shoulder, she leaned onto her for support and nodded.
"I… am so never getting used to that." The Dragonborn groaned. She rubbed the back of her hand across her forehead, wiping off the sweat. Quickly steadying herself on wobbly legs, Saya made a mental note not to try that again. Maybe a written one later.
"Did it work?" Lydia asked, shifting to hold Saya up by the forearm. Then, a deep, gravelly voice spoke:
"So it would seem."
Both of the women turned their heads to the voice's source. Above the skeleton there was now a visage of a man - a tall, bearded Nord with a greatsword mounted upon his bare back. He wore no armor and his chest sported a wide, ugly scar that he seemed almost proud of. Saya's gaze slowly wandered over to the skeleton, and indeed - the crushed ribs formed the same line that the scar drew upon the ghost's 'flesh'. The man's hair was long and thick, looking almost like a mane, and a single braid was weaved on the left side of his face, reaching past his chin.
"You've got guts, long-ear. Pulling a warrior long dead from his slumber, let alone from Sovngarde itself." Gjukar's feet touched the ground, and that was the moment where it really hit Saya just how tall he actually was. It was one thing to look at the bones - seeing the man tower a full two heads over her is entirely another. "And with the power of Thu'um, no less. Speak your excuse, then."
'Excuse'? Well, someone's a bit fucking presumptuous.
She wouldn't say that out loud, though. Instead she cleared her throat, putting on as neutral a tone as possible. "I called you because I need your help. I know you are Dragonborn, and I seek your mastery of Thu'um."
The warrior scowled, reaching for his axe and wrapping his fingers around the handle. Though, he did not unsheathe the weapon as Lydia suddenly stepped forward, her own blade hissing as it left the scabbard. The housecarl raised her shield-arm, holding it in front of Saya.
"Not a step further." The black-haired Nord growled at her kinsman. He silently regarded her for a couple seconds, and then let go of his weapon with a quiet disgruntled huff.
"A daughter of Skyrim protecting a she-devil. May the harbinger of us all have mercy should you face him in Sovngarde, for in life he would've had your head." The spirit's words were seething with spite, but he did not attempt to draw his weapon once more. He was silent for a moment, thinking before he spoke again - this time in a much calmer tone. "My brothers and sisters in arms have told me a great many stories of being awakened by witchmen and enslaved, forced to act in favor of their vile schemes against their will. I feel no such restraint on me. What is it that you want, truly?"
Saya sighed. Contrary to Lydia and Gjukar, her own hand hadn't even twitched in her blade's direction. "Like I said, I am after your knowledge of Thu'um. My name is Saya, I am the Dragonborn of this age. More than three thousand years have passed since your death, and masters who can train me are very few and can only offer so much in a short amount of time. And time is short." She reached into her pocket, pulling out a large ivory tooth.
Gjukar seemed puzzled at the sight, but his expression remained the same beyond a raised eyebrow. "What beast does this belong to?"
"A beast that you have never seen, Gjukar. A dragon." She placed the fang back into her pouch. Might come in handy later. "They have returned, and I've seen first-hand what they are able to do if left unchecked. It's my responsibility to stop them, and I need all the help I can get."
At this, the man's expression grew grim. "So it is true, then."
Lydia tried maintaining the defensive front, but the curiosity in her voice betrayed her fierce look. Her grip on her sword and her shield, however, hadn't loosened. "What is?"
Gjukar closed his eyes, stroking his beard as he spoke. "In recent times, I'd scarcely see a new soul to greet in Sovngarde. A thick mist unlike anything I've witnessed before hangs over the stretching plains… and, sometimes, out of the corner of their eye, one might catch a glimpse of a winged shadow looming over the misty labyrinth. Those few that make it through are steeled, mighty folk, yet somehow even they tremble when they describe the thing. Bloody red eyes, scales dark as night, and a throat that spits flames hotter than the sun."
Saya's eyebrows furrowed. Alduin being sighted in an afterlife of all places certainly didn't bode anything good. And the mysterious mist, too…
"That's their leader." Lydia said, lowering her weapons at last. "We've seen this black dragon before. He has the power to resurrect other dragons."
"Truly?" Gjukar looked shaken. His mind turned to darker thoughts, and it showed in his face. "Then… can they ever be defeated? Won't they simply return to life, time after time after time?"
"Not if a Dragonborn kills them," Saya responded. She placed a hand on her chest, her fingers curling into a fist. "My soul - our souls - are special. The Dragonborn don't just have the tongue of a dragon, our very souls are the same as theirs. If I kill a dragon, I can devour its soul - and it'll never rise again."
The warrior looked at her for a few long seconds. Then, he began quietly laughing, a small smile creeping its way into his features. "And it is my power that you want to use against them. To bring them down and devour them."
The Dunmer nodded, stepping around Lydia to bow slightly. "Yes. To protect Skyrim, and all of Tamriel, I ask for your help." She closed her eyes, waiting for an answer.
Lydia watched Gjukar contemplate, and the few seconds of silence that hung around them felt like minutes. The woman's eyes were so focused on him that she barely paid any mind to her surroundings. It was only when Gjukar nodded to himself contently did she accidentally look behind him, and a passing thought crossed her mind:
Were the clouds so dark this whole time?
"STRUN!"
All of a sudden, the roar of thunder rumbled above their heads and lightning struck the monument. Saya looked back up only to be met with unexpected rainfall, and she quickly pulled up her hood. The stone pillar seemed to have almost broken in two, as a series of large cracks stemmed from the top and riddled the entire monolith. She turned to Gjukar, who smiled back at her and nodded towards the pillar again.
"You wanted my knowledge. Take it, then."
The Dragonborn frowned and looked at the stone yet again, squinting… and suddenly, it clicked. The way the cracks formed, deep or shallow, connected or separate - it wasn't random. No, the cracks formed symbols. A word that called to Saya, whispering at the back of her mind: Strun.
"Thunder roars in the heavens. Clouds gather, blacking out the blazing sun. Fire courses in your veins, and the winters of Atmora live within your breath." Gjukar spoke, and the surroundings followed his words. Indeed, the clouds boomed with their low growls, and not a single ray of sunshine could be seen through them. "Your words are spoken in the tongue of gods, granted unto us by the Hawk of Winds and Rain. By her icy breath are we steeled, and by her blessing do our blades strike true. Speak, then-"
The warrior offered his hand. Saya reached out towards it.
"-and unleash the storm she gifted you."
The two Dragonborns' hands touched, and the ghost's heart grew bright, pulsing with light through his ethereal body. Starting with the fingertips, his form began to vanish, and with every beat the glowing heart grew brighter and brighter. Gjukar looked at Saya and gave her a small approving nod, speaking:
"I know now what you mean when you said you sought my knowledge. For our souls are just like those of dragons, and just like them you sought to consume mine."
A glint of guilt flashed in the Dunmer's eyes as she averted them. "It was the only way."
"Ha! Even a Dragonborn, an elf is still a sentimental milk-drinker!" The Nord laughed. Saya couldn't help but smile wryly. "A dead man is no good to save the world, but his weapons may yet be used. Fulfill your duty, Dragonborn."
She nodded, a chuckle escaping her. His legs have dissipated up to the thigh by now. "I'll make sure to put it to good use. But what of you? If I absorb your soul, won't you…"
"Not be able to return to Sovngarde?" The warrior cut her off. "Aye."
"Do you regret it?" Lydia asked, her voice quiet, as if unsure. Sovngarde was the goal of their entire life to some, if not most Nords. Would he really give it up?
"Girl…" Gjukar went quiet. It was obvious in his features that he didn't want to give it up. Something that he lived and died for. But he shook his head. "You told me that it has been… what, three thousand years since I have entered that place? Shor's beard, you never notice how long you've been drinking until someone sober pokes you in the gut." He laughed yet again. The lower half of his body was completely gone, leaving only half an arm, his chest, and his head to fall apart into glowing dust. "But no matter how sweet the mead is, or how long the night - you have to pass out at some point."
The housecarl averted her eyes. Saya's lips stretched into a smile. "Rest in peace, Gjukar."
The Dunmer reached out towards the glowing heart of the ghost, already so bright that it had appeared as just an orb of light, shimmering with orange and blue tongues of fire. Her fingers had barely touched it when suddenly, it exploded with wisps of energy, twisting and floating around the Dragonborn. It was not an unfamiliar sight, yet somehow it was still just as mesmerizing as the first time. She took a deep breath, and the energy entered her body, her heartbeat drumming in her temples and her soul pulsing with power.
As Saya exhaled and opened her eyes again, she looked up into the sky. The clouds above were slowly clearing up.
If anyone expected me not to use the Shout just for the shits and giggles of it, you do not know me and I don't care to know you. Seriously, come on. Would anyone really judge me if I had the power to summon thunderbolts on demand and wanted to see if it works? Lydia reprimanded me, sure, but I know damn well she'd want to.
Now in hindsight, I probably should've known that natural lightning would require storm clouds. Which would mean rain. So Lydia and I accidentally ended up soaked.
I don't know who it is reading this, but know that I can feel your judgmental glare. Stop that. Rain is good for the environment, I'm doing everyone a service, shut up.
We found shelter in a cave a bit to the east. I believe it was marked on the map as Broken Fang cave. I wasn't sure why, but the name turned out to be rather self-evident when we entered.
It was a tiny place, only a couple of chambers, but Malac's blood was it filled up with all kinds of gore. It was like a butcher's, only with people instead of animals. We took care of the two bandits outside quickly enough, but the actual owners of the place were the three vampires holed up inside. Thankfully, it was still pretty early in the afternoon, so we managed to catch them by surprise, aside from the one keeping watch.
I have to say, I'm glad that the rule still holds up and killing a sleeping vampire is a lot easier than an actively fighting one. I have no idea why it wouldn't apply for any reason, but who knows? Creatures of the night and all that.
I can only imagine myself gently shaking a vampire awake so I can stab him in the gut. Heh.
One weird thing I noticed and feel is worth noting is that the vampires all wore the same clothes. There were some minor color variations here and there, but all of them wore the same boots and gloves along with a black shirt and a layered-looking vest over the top. They also had a metal pin right over where the heart is, looks kind of like a steering wheel. Ugly little thing. Eight spokes, sides of the world maybe? The cardinal four were longer than the others, though none of them are of identical length. Can't tell if that's intentional or if the craftsmanship is shit.
I snagged one of the emblems just in case. Maybe I'll dig up some information, or maybe I'll have an identifier for the guards to use when looking for members of a new vampire gang.
Would it be a gang? Tribe? Clan? Whatever the proper term is.
For now we'll just wait out the rain and then move on, though I'm not gonna lie, it's not looking too great. We probably won't have to camp here but I doubt we'll make much distance before nightfall.
I should make a mental note to ask the Greybeards about some kind of Shout to make the weather better, maybe. That'd come in real handy. If it didn't hurt like a bitch to speak, anyway.
Middas, the 10th of Hearthfire, 4E201
"Do you think I could blow its head off?"
"That's… not really the point here, we just-"
"-want to snap the neck with the Shout, I know, but could I, hypothetically speaking, blow its head off?"
Lydia released a very, very tired sigh at the question. Their trip towards Whiterun has been mostly uneventful, and the two were just having idle conversation the entire way. That is, until something happened - that something being the Dunmer spotting a deer while on their way past the Sleeping Tree, and promptly deciding that she absolutely needed to kill it because she wanted the hide and the antlers. Gods only know for what, but the housecarl didn't question it. It's unlikely she'd get a clear answer anyway.
"Alright, you know the plan." Saya gave Lydia a small salute before quietly stepping aside and sneaking around the animal. A solid minute later, the Dunmer ended up almost parallel to the deer, and Lydia drew her bow. The loosed arrow whistled through the air, landing just a few steps away from the cervid. It turned sharply to look at the arrow before it heard Lydia's closely approaching footsteps and immediately bolted in the opposite direction. Saya followed suit, keeping a bit of a distance as the two led the animal away from the open road and into the woods southward, trapping it with no way to escape. When the deer realized it, it dashed to the left, trying to get lost between the trees only to run straight into Saya, who opened her mouth and-
"Fus, RO DAH!"
The deer didn't have time to release its pained yelp before it got blasted with a force of such intensity that it was swept completely off its feet, and thrown into the woods. A series of crunches followed, though whether they were bones or trees was impossible to discern. As the Dragonborn was recovering, her housecarl approached from the side.
"Did it work?" Her tone of voice was unamused, though not without a hint of curiosity. She looked to the side, seeing the snapped branches and small chunks of grass torn asunder in a cone, originating from where the Dunmer was standing.
"Without a hitch." She coughed, her voice cracking a few times as the ache has yet to wear off. "…fucking o-ow."
Lydia rolled her eyes, slinging the bow back onto her shoulder. "Don't talk. I'll go find the deer." With that, the housecarl briskly walked off, disappearing into the treeline. Saya steadied her breath, squeezing her fist repeatedly and counting until the last painful stings stopped. When they did, she released a deep sigh.
"...forty five, huh? Not a good idea for a fight, after all." The Dragonborn shook her head, disappointed. "Though, maybe if it's a one-on-one… or maybe when everyone is bunched up?" She hummed, stroking her chin. The mental image of a dozen-odd bandits being swept off their feet and falling off a cliff was oddly entertaining.
Until a shrill scream pulled her out of her thoughts.
Saya's eyes narrowed, scanning the area for the source of the voice, which was unmistakably Lydia's. She made a beeline for where she thought the scream came from, not sparing so much as a glance to the deer that lay still on the ground. Instead, her gaze followed a faint bloody trail that she noticed, lurking within the trees and leading her deeper in. With each and every step, the trail grew more saturated, turning the grass a dark shade of red and seeping into the earth. Saya heard a choked, pained yelp and unsheathed her weapon. The thought of the blood possibly being Lydia's as well quickened her heartbeat, priming her to jump into the fight as soon as she could.
Yet when she finally saw her housecarl, her first instinct was to freeze in fear.
A creature just a little over two meters tall towered over Lydia, holding her by the neck against a tree. The monster's skin was a dull, stony grey. Upon closer inspection, it looked a little singed in some spots, like dry grass after a sunny week. Its hair was long, tied into a silver-white ponytail that reached between its exposed shoulder blades. Only the lower half of the creature was covered by a long ornamented skirt. Its uncomfortably long legs ended with bird-like four-toed feet with long black claws, matching the ones on its long-fingered, sinewy hands. Its ears were long and stretched out to curl around its head, almost like a fox's but somehow deformed and naked. Finally, a pair of strange boney wings protruding from its back, one of them broken and bent at an odd angle. Saya took a step back at the sight and the creature's head snapped in her direction, revealing a flat nose and pitch-black eyes… along with a pair of sharp fangs.
The Dunmer came to her senses just in time to see the monster raise its free hand to form an ice spear and hurl it at her. She quickly moved her arm, shattering the projectile with her weapon. The winged creature dropped Lydia to the ground and hissed, its skin splitting into dozens of little fragments of darkness that burst out into flight as a swarm of bats.
"Feim!" She screamed, closing her eyes as the rapidly approaching cloud of ravenous animals passed straight through her. She turned around, seeing the monster meld back into its original form as it glared at her with animalistic rage. Streaks of crimson magicka accumulated in its dominant hand and a low chant rumbled from its throat, but whatever spell it was attempting was swiftly interrupted by a firebolt striking into its shoulder.
The creature shrieked, watching its own skin burn up like dry paper. Seeing the opening, Saya got up close and thrust her blade forward - yet the strike stopped early, caught by a monstrous hand with speed almost too fast to see. Dark blood flowed from the wound and the creature hissed in pain before its other claw grasped Saya by the neck, lifting her up and slamming her into the ground. The air left her lungs in an ugly cough, and in her hazy vision she could see the glint of bared fangs drawing closer to her.
Then she heard something whizzing by, followed by the sharp noise of splitting bone. Ice-cold blood splattered on her face, and the grip around her throat suddenly relaxed. Moments later, the beast collapsed onto her, falling like a sack of stones. Saya immediately pushed it off to the ground, briefly panicking before she realized that it was actually dead - killed by a thick wooden arrow stuck halfway into the skull.
"Ugh. Nasty thing, managed to get away after all," a low voice grumbled beside the Dunmer. She turned and saw a male figure - at least, she assumed so from the broadness of the shoulders and the height. Said figure wore a full suit of armor: boots and gloves of rough studded leather, held in place by buckles from the same material; the shoulders and knees were covered with steel plates vaguely mimicking the body's shape, simple in form yet seemingly very effective in function; a tunic of thick black cloth served as an undershirt for a steel-plated brigandine with something akin to a high steel collar around the neck; lastly, the face was completely obscured as the man wore a closed helmet - not unlike those used by knightly orders of High Rock - with only a few small holes for breathing and two larger ones for the person's eyes, which appeared to be dark yellow. One hand appeared to be holding a device that Saya vaguely recognized as something that the Dwemer Spheres use for ranged combat, while the other was stretched out in an offer to help. The Dunmer grasped it, helping herself up.
"I… thanks."
"Hmph." The figure grumbled in acknowledgement. "You get bitten or scratched anywhere?"
Saya looked and felt around herself, checking for injuries. "No, I'm fine." She replied, before quickly following up: "Ah- but I was with another person. She might be injured."
The man grunted, putting his weapon onto his back. "Show me."
Saya nodded, stepping aside and gesturing to where Lydia was. The stranger didn't wait for her to say anything before walking in that direction, passing right by the Dunmer. As the initial shock - and with it, the burst of gratitude - from being rescued from a near-death situation passed, the Dragonborn let a hint of irritation slip into her face. "And you are?"
The man stopped in his tracks, turning his head. "Durak." He said simply, and continued on.
Lydia wasn't very well off when we found her. She was just barely conscious, but Durak pulled out some kind of weird bottled liquid. He gave her a whiff, and she immediately bolted awake - if only to push him away. Can't blame her, whatever's in that vial could wake the dead, the bloody thing. I used whatever little healing magic I knew to patch up whatever wounds I could find on her, though thankfully there wasn't anything serious.
To top it off, Durak made sure to give her a small potion in a white flask and told her to drink it "right now". You'd think he was trying to punch a hole in her head with how intensely he watched her drink it.
Luckily, even though he wasn't really the talkative sort from what I've seen, he did say that the flask was a curative that should halt the development of vampirism, but advised both of us to see a priest just in case.
Oh, right, speaking of: the thing that attacked us was, according to Durak, a specific type of vampire, characterized by its ability to transform. "Vampire lord", he called it. They're supposed to be incredibly rare, but in recent days they started showing up a lot more frequently. This caught the attention of his organization, the Dawnguard - vampire hunters, holed up in the fort in the Velothi mountains just east of Riften. Mostly ex-Vigilants, from what I heard.
Now that I think about it, they've been popping up in passing conversations quite a lot recently. Alvor mentioned them, too. Actually, didn't he also say that Riverwood was attacked by a pack of vampires a week ago?
Shit. Durak mentioned a vampire lair somewhere nearby. Hopefully he hasn't gone far.
Durak growled under his helmet and stomped his foot down onto the zombie's chest. The undead thing fruitlessly tried to reach him, moaning and groaning as the metal boot pressed it to the floor. The man tightened his grip around his weapon's handle and lifted it over his head. In one swing, the axehead chopped into the creature's neck, and its reanimated body slowly crumbled into ash.
His feeling of relief was short-lived as a stabbing pain ran through his shoulder. With almost bestial ferocity, Durak turned around to see a skeletal archer midway through nocking a second arrow. This same arrow ended up on the floor seconds later, when Durak rammed the flimsy corpse with his shoulder and smashed it into smithereens. Running around in heavy armor like this was taking its toll, Durak's breaths growing labored and more frequent.
The thought of rest had just crossed his mind when he heard laughter echoing from somewhere high up. The Orc's gaze turned upward and he saw that he was in the middle of a vertical tunnel, chiseled rock stairs spiraling around its walls to lead upward.
At the very top, he could see a figure not unlike that which he had killed just outside the cavern - a vampire lord, who was the source of the laughter. Its skin was notably paler than the one outside, less like slate and more so like ash left behind by a burnt stick of charcoal, and its eyes weren't black but rather shone with pale white. The few bits of clothing it had were not red but jet black, the metallic embroidery shining with gold against the cloth. Lastly, and perhaps most notably - it lacked the wings of its counterpart, but instead its head was adorned with a pair of thick horns that curled back, almost like those of an antelope.
"I applaud you, Dawnguard. You have come far." Its voice was low and raspy, echoing through the chamber. Durak didn't wait for it to finish talking, grabbing his crossbow and sending a bolt straight for the creature's face. Unamused, the vampire lord simply raised its hand and the bolt froze in the air before being tossed aside. "I must commend you for slaughtering that Volkihar dog that escaped us. It would've been… obnoxious to hunt down."
The monster's other hand began to swell with purple energy. The color filled the room like a miasma, seeping into the ground and permeating within the walls. "For this service, I have decided to grant you a gift." It turned its palm around, raising the hand above its head. The energy pulsed under the vampire's skin, gathering at the fingertips as an undulating shimmer in the veins. "I shall not turn you into a thrall. You shall die by my hand rather than live in eternal servitude. Be grateful, morsel."
The walls began to abruptly crack, crooked arms and legs with long fingers emerging, reaching out from the stone. Bat-like faces opened their jaws and screeched. The bodies broke out of the surrounding material, fluttering their featherless wings and brandishing their misshapen claws as their feral eyes centered on the Orc. Durak cursed under his breath, recognizing the creatures as gargoyles, and readied his crossbow. The vampire lord smirked.
"Die now, in terror. But do not be sad. I assure you, your comrades will-" The creature's speech was interrupted with a booming noise and a gust of wind circling around its body, followed immediately by a bloody gurgle. The vampire's eyes lowered to see a hand holding an ebony dagger lodged deep in his throat. The next second, they rolled back into the skull as the hand twisted the blade and a sickening wet crack announced the snapping of the creature's neck, vertebrae dislodged by cold metal.
Saya pulled the dagger out and then brought it down again, this time on its chest. The edge gleamed with red as dark blood coated it, dribbling out of the long diagonal gash across the creature's torso. Durak's mind caught up with what just happened just in time to see the gargoyles around him collapse into pieces of rock and dust, and, soon after, the vampire's corpse also dropped from its perch, falling like a sack of rocks onto the cold stone floor.
The Dawnguard lifted his eyes to meet Saya's gaze, staring at her with an indecipherable expression. She sighed, wiping her forehead. "What? He was monologuing."
Thankfully, that turned out to be the only vampire lord in the entire ruin. I don't want to know what it's like to take one on in open combat, and hopefully I never have to find out.
Durak turned out to be a lot more talkative once he's not in as big of a hurry and owes you his life. Wasn't too hard to weasel out more info on this Dawnguard - apparently they're a splinter group that separated from the Vigilants of Stendarr due to some differences in ideology. Durak himself wasn't a Vigilant, but was a good friend of the man currently leading the Dawnguard, Isran, so when the call for help found him, he didn't have to think much.
True to its name, Brittleshin Pass turned out to be a passage through the mountains. When we came out the other side, we ended up just a stone's throw away from lake Ilinalta. At that point the Orc bid his goodbyes and told me to come by the fort if I ever decide to be a bit more proactive against the "vampire menace".
Not the best pitch, but at least he tried.
Myself and Lydia will head to Riverwood for now. She needs the rest, and I'd really appreciate a good meal. Stomach has been growling louder than most dragons I met, and I haven't met a lot. Not yet anyway.
"Well if it isn't a familiar face!" Saya exclaimed, half-turning towards the inn's entrance and raising her mug in greeting. Lydia glanced over her shoulder, giving the target of her Thane's attention a careful look over. A Nord man with short-ish brown hair, a strong jawline, and mismatched eyes stood by the door. One of his arms was wrapped in a large amount of bandages, propped up by a leather belt that went around the shoulder and under the damaged limb.
Hadvar chuckled and pulled up a chair, sliding over some coin to Orgnar, who wordlessly poured him a tankard of mead. "Good evening to you, too." As soon as the drink was served, he pulled it up to his mouth and took a hearty gulp.
Saya did the same, giving her housecarl a glance that told her to ease up. Lydia shrugged, quieting down and going back to her own drink. "How's the past month been treating you? I was here just a few weeks ago and your folks said that you were off fighting, and now you come waddling back with that arm of yours." She lightly jabbed the man's shoulder with her elbow, enough for him to feel it but careful not to hurt him on accident. "Get into a fight with a bear?"
The soldier laughed. "If only it was that entertaining. No, nothing of the sort." He shifted a bit in his seat while Saya turned around to listen more closely. "Had a run-in with Forsworn near Fort Sungard. We've been getting no reports from the unit stationed there and our scouting party was sent to check if everything was alright. When the fight broke out, I had the rotten luck of fighting the one with a big hammer." Hadvar turned towards the Dunmer, looking her in the eye with absolute seriousness. "Believe me, those things may look flimsy, but they pack quite the punch. Lucky I could get my shield up in time, gods know what would've happened to this arm if I was a moment slower."
Saya hummed, running her finger across the rim of the mug. "So you're here on an impromptu vacation, then?"
At this, Hadvar gave a wry smile. "If you can call it that. Most of our healers are off at the front lines, I got this thing patched up as best as I could with what we had. The legate told us that the fort will be dealt with and we should take a few weeks to recover - we weren't an assault force, after all. Miracle we got out alive." Another swig of mead. "What about you? Uncle Alvor said you had a brush with a dragon?"
"Oh you know." Saya rolled her eyes in the direction of Lydia, who looked unamused. "I might've."
"She killed it," Lydia said dryly. "And another one, last Middas. Almost blew her hand into pieces in the process." The housecarl turned to look at the others, and couldn't help but smirk as she saw Hadvar's expression of utter bewilderment and disbelief along with Saya's childish pout.
"You're no fun." The Dunmer mumbled.
"And you're beating around the bush," the Nord shot back. "I don't see why being Dragonborn is something you shouldn't be proud and open about."
Saya grumbled, unable to come up with a comeback without having to mention the cultists and possibly risking reigniting Lydia's paranoia. So instead she raised her mug to her lips again, sipping the wine from it.
Hadvar took a solid few seconds to get over his stupor. Predictably enough, the first words to leave his mouth were: "You're the Dragonborn?"
Saya cringed as the patrons of the inn turned to look at her group. Too many eyes. Too many ears. She sighed, nodding. "I'd rather not talk about it." She spoke quietly, the mug covering her lips for the most part before she raised it and downed whatever alcohol was still left in there. Orgnar took the hint and set the thing aside to be cleaned.
"Oh..." The soldier deflated somewhat, reaching for his tankard awkwardly, but not drinking. "Is… is there any reason why not?"
The Dragonborn gave Lydia a side glance before turning forward again, looking at nothing in particular while figuring out a way to word her thoughts properly. "You think you'd react well if some random elf you didn't know showed up, claiming to be the Dragonborn of legend?"
Hadvar opened his mouth to respond, but no response actually came through. She had a point.
"Not everybody is particularly anxious for the Dragonborn to appear. Most would probably view it as a good thing, sure, but others might see one as a wild card that needs to be removed off the table." Saya clasped her fingers together, twiddling her thumbs. "And if some no-goods come looking for me then the less people know, the less people can rat me out. Can't confess what you don't know, aye?"
"...aye." The Nord nodded, throwing his head back and swallowing a few mouthfuls of mead. Somehow, it didn't taste too sweet anymore. "Anything else happened to you?"
Saya rubbed her chin, thinking. "Well, I've gotten kidnapped by a cult in Markarth, killed most of them... Oh! We also took care of the vampires that were hiding out in a cave nearby. There's been some activity out there, you should watch out for those. Also, we saw a jester-"
The grim mood from earlier was beginning to quickly lift as Saya began to recount her adventures to Hadvar, a smile finding its way onto Lydia's face as she watched over her Thane from behind her tankard. From the corner of her eye, she could see 'Delphine' watching over them, making eye contact with the housecarl. The black-haired Nord gave her a knowing nod, which the Breton returned before continuing on with her work.
The knock on Saya's door did not come unexpectedly. The Dunmer sighed, muttering a quiet "Finally…" as she hopped off the bed. Lydia followed her Thane's movements with a lazy look before she got off the bed herself, rubbing her eyes. It had been late enough in the night that she was getting sleepy, but she had forced herself to stay awake, knowing that this very thing would happen.
As the door opened, Fortunata was already standing in her own doorway, gesturing for the two to come over. Saya nodded and stepped quietly into her room, with Lydia soon following and closing the door behind them. The closet doors slipped open and the false panel was pushed back into the wall, sliding to the side and revealing the hidden basement in which the blonde Breton had already been waiting.
"Any updates?" Before 'Delphine' managed to say anything, Saya instantly threw the question her way. The Breton's brows furrowed slightly and she shook her head.
"That's what I wanted to ask you, but I don't think there's much you can tell me that you didn't already tell Hadvar. You should learn to watch the volume." She grumbled, irritation apparent in her voice, even if not nearly as thick as during their first meeting. Seemingly, having Saya's Dragonborn status being proven to her curbed the woman's general attitude of superiority. If only a little.
"Gonna tell me I'm not allowed to catch up with a guy who saved my life? You're a cold one," Saya chirped and plopped down into a nearby chair. Lydia remained close by, standing at her side. "There weren't any secrets to keep and I didn't reveal any 'secret plans'-" the Dunmer gestured with air quotes for emphasis, "-if only because I have none yet, and I'm still waiting on your suggestions as to how to find your friend. How's that part going, by the way?"
"Quite well, actually." Fortunata said, almost a bit smugly.
The Dragonborn moved forward in her seat, listening much more intently. "Do go on?"
'Delphine' crossed her arms. "The Thalmor's organization in Skyrim follows a specific hierarchy. The lowest level are the agents, they have next to no standing or authority on their own. Those are the foot soldiers you meet on the roads and such," she explained. "The robed ones accompanying them are Justiciars, which serve as squad captains, elite officers, and official enforcers of the White-Gold Concordat here in Skyrim. The agents report to the Justiciars, who, in turn, report to Emissaries. Now these are the top dogs."
"Do you know who these Emissaries are?" Saya asked.
"I do. They don't exactly try to keep their positions secret." She scoffed, scorn showing in her voice. "The lowest of the Emissaries is the Third Emissary, Rulindil. He is responsible for interrogations and management of information. He is very secretive and only appears to speak directly to his operatives, so his archives should be our target. Next up is Second Emissary, Ondolemar - this one is the chief Talos hunter, and was last seen in Markarth. For now he's of no use to us, but he's constantly out in the field and the search-and-destroy squads are his prerogative. Make sure your identity is not revealed to him or one of his men."
The Dragonborn's hand unwittingly gripped the arm of her chair. "Very well. Anything notable about him I should keep in mind?"
Fortunata nodded. "Pitiful as it is, he has a beard. Most Altmer can't or won't grow one - something about it being a mannish feature."
Saya nodded, standing up and crossing her arms. "And, assuming you saved the best for last, the First Emissary is…?"
"Elenwen," the Breton finished. "She's the biggest meddler in Skyrim's political life, serving as the equivalent of a Dominion ambassador and poking her nose in everyone's business wherever and whenever she can. The good part about this is that it means she has an active social life and often hosts parties at the Embassy, where she keeps an eye on the important political figures of Skyrim to make sure they're still loyal to the Thalmor."
"And that is good because… why?" Saya scratched her head. "I'm not exactly a jarl or something."
'Delphine' crossed her arms. "You're a Thane of a hold, and unless you're one with a very big impact on that hold's economy the Thalmor won't bother remembering you as anyone important. If you disguise yourself, you could slip into one of the parties and rifle through the papers of the First Emissary for anything that might be classified. If information on Blades in hiding is stored anywhere - it'll be there. If not, then you might at least find where Rulindil is keeping his records."
Saya closed her eyes, nodding and humming for a little while. Then, she raised her hand. "If I may ask one question, though." All fingers bent except for the index, with which she pointed at Fortunata. "What will you be doing? All of this so far is making it sound like I'll be the only person out there. What about you?"
The Breton sighed, annoyance radiating from the way she spoke. "I can't go. The Thalmor already know what I look and sound like, and a magical disguise will be easily dispelled. I'm still working with my contacts on getting you a legitimate invitation so you don't have to steal another person's identity and risk being 'recognized', or get yourself arrested and interrogated for coming with a fake."
"So I'm going to be alone in all of that. Brilliant." Saya sighed, crossing her arms. "I'm guessing I can't exactly take my housecarl with me without her being questioned."
"I never said you'll have to do it alone. Though the girl will have to stay, yes." The Breton leaned onto the table, easing up slightly. "I have a man on the inside. I know him well enough to vouch for him being trustworthy. I don't think I need to explain why I won't tell you his name until you have to meet him, correct?" The Dunmer nodded. "Good. I'll tell you where to go when the date of the next party has been finalized and I'll have everything ready for you."
"About that," Saya cut in. "You never did tell me how you plan on informing me. You got a private courier, too?"
"That's the other thing I called you here for." At this, Fortunata went to her backpack, which was hanging off the back of a chair, and pulled a thick tome out of it. "Farengar made this at my request. It's a spell tome. Read it, and get used to casting the spell when you have."
"What is it?" The Dragonborn said, tilting her head as she picked up the book.
"You'll find out." Saya's deadpan gaze prompted Fortunata to release yet another irritated sigh as she pinched the bridge of her nose. "It's a spell, alright? I don't know what it is yet, but Farengar said it should suit us fine. I have another copy of the tome too, I just haven't gotten around to reading it yet."
The redhead smirked, shrugging. "Fair enough. Is that all for tonight, then?" Fortunata nodded. "Then we'll be going back to our room now. Have a good night." The Breton murmured something in return as she went back to her papers.
Lydia finally moved from her spot beside the seat and visually deflated from her stoic, straight-backed stance as soon as the two were out of the basement. First thing she did was collapse onto her bed once herself and Saya were back in their room. The Dunmer watched this with a quiet giggle.
"What is it?" Lydia grumbled, looking up at her Thane with one eye from under the pillow.
Saya used her elbow to support her head as she looked at Lydia with a knowing smile. "You didn't have to stay awake for the meeting, you know?"
Lydia grumbled. Then, a few seconds later and more audibly, she said: "I know I technically didn't have to, but I'm still your housecarl. I have a duty to protect you, as my Thane."
Saya snickered. "Really?"
Lydia turned to look at the Dunmer, her expression dead serious. "Really."
Slowly, Saya's smile turned from a kind one into a smug one. "And that's why you forgot to take your sword, which you placed near the bed specifically so you wouldn't forget to take it?"
The silence remained unbroken as the pair maintained eye contact for what was really just a few moments, but felt like an eternity as Lydia processed the information. Slowly, she turned her head to her left, seeing the ebony blade crafted by Saya standing inside a dark leather scabbard beside the bed frame. Then, her eyes moved back to her Thane's face, an obnoxiously smug smirk still adorning her features. Lydia felt her cheeks becoming hotter as she closed her eyes and turned over to face the wall, suppressing the urge to scream.
"Goodnight~." Came the playful voice from behind her back. Her Thane was rather obviously holding back the desire to laugh. She could appreciate the effort.
"...G-goodnight," Lydia squeezed out. A few moments later, the candle flame lighting the room was extinguished.
Turdas, the 11th of Hearthfire, 4E201
I checked back with Alvor and Sigrid the next day. Said hi to little Dorthe, too. Maybe next time I should bring some kind of gift. Alvor insists that it's not necessary, but honestly? I just like seeing the girl's face light up. Life in Tamriel isn't easy, let her enjoy herself before she has to start working for her keep.
Maybe a little dragon doll? That sounds fun. Wish I could sew.
The trip back to Whiterun was uneventful. I picked some flowers while we were going home and decided to take a moment to just sit by the river. There wasn't much to do in the city anyway, so I just watched the water flow for a while. It's surprisingly calming, even if you see fish struggle to swim upstream. I considered catching some, but Lydia opposed, if only on account of me wearing armor, a lot of equipment, multiple journals, supplies, weapons… you get the point. For a second I considered taking it off but then I remembered that we are still very close to a guard patrol, a meadery, multiple farms, and one of the bigger cities in the province. Plus it'd probably be inappropriate for a thane to do.
So instead we just chatted about nothing in particular for a while. Lydia told me a few fun stories, like that one time she crawled onto Dragonsreach's roof to find hawk eggs. To this day, the guards that got her down joke that it was this event that caused her father's baldness.
About halfway through the story I realized that I didn't really have anything to do with the flowers and that they'd wilt if I just kept them in my bag, so I weaved them into a flower crown and put it on Lydia's head when she was finished. I feel a little bad for laughing at my own housecarl going from composed to flustered and gibbering, but only a little. Worth the earful about inappropriate behavior, that's for sure.
When we got home, I decided to mix things up a little and tried my hand at cooking. A day or two to relax after the whole vampire thing sounds quite good, and Lydia needs the rest. Girl was cranky as all hells this morning.
Some boiled crab meat here, some potatoes stuffed with cheese there, a little bit of wine to go along with everything. Almost like home, though not quite. Ah, how I'd love some scrib jelly right about now.
I'll have to keep it in mind to salt the crab less next time. Blends with the cheese a bit too much. Oh well, lesson learned.
I think I'll take a walk before going to sleep. Lydia is insistent on coming with, so who am I to say no.
The night air was chill, though not uncomfortably so. A simple overcoat kept the Dunmer warm, while her housecarl was seemingly comfortable in just her day clothes. A sword was hanging off Lydia's hip, and the woman was constantly keeping one hand on it, her eyes occasionally peering off into the darkness of night. By contrast, Saya's behavior was as carefree as could be. The two had just come outside of the city gates, away from the fires of the braziers and torches that lit Whiterun's exterior. The Dragonborn was walking off to the main road with a spring to her step, a weird sort of giddiness that made Lydia decide not to try and stop her Thane and let her have this outing, even with all the dangers in mind.
"-that's how the old astronomers kept track of the Serpent, by looking for the bleak white stars among all the colorful ones."
"Where is it right now?"
Saya raised her arm, pointing off into the sky. "Right over there, just under the Tower-"
The Dragonborn continued telling her housecarl what she knew of the various constellations, occasionally pausing to answer any questions the Nord might have before continuing to babble on and on. A small smile graced Lydia's features - even in the dark, Saya's eyes were almost sparkling with enthusiasm.
"Wait." Suddenly, the Nord stopped in her steps, drawing her sword. Saya looked around in confusion before her eyes had locked onto the same thing that her housecarl had seen, but she did not take the same battle stance, only looking off in curiosity.
There, west of them on the road, was a transparent silhouette that glowed brightly with starry white against the black of night. It was the visage of a man sitting atop his horse, a ghastly mare kicking its hooves on the pavement impatiently. The man was soothing the animal, patting its neck and running his fingers through the thick white mane. The ghost then sat up straight, and two features came into view. One was the battle axe hanging on his back.
The other was that he had no head.
For a moment, he almost seemed to look at them. Then, he raised his hand, beckoning the two as a deep, echoing laughter emerged from the ghost. He grabbed the reins, and the horse then took off into the darkness, soon vanishing into thin air.
Lydia turned around, already seeing Saya's mouth opening to suggest something, and instantly cut her off: "You are not following that."
The Dunmer's expression turned into a begrudged pout and, with a hearty harumph, she matched off in the direction of Whiterun. The housecarl shook her head, sheathing her sword and followed suit.
I am so following that.
Let's hope the stable boys took care of Annie proper. If all goes well, I'll be back before Lydia wakes up.
The clopping of the hooves gradually slowed down before Saya hopped off her horse's back, staring down at the ghost she had been following for the last two hours. His own ethereal steed had disappeared as soon as his feet touched the ground, and a rumbling chuckle rolled across the ruin that the two found themselves at.
Though, calling it a ruin would be a bad descriptor for the location. It was a cemetery. Twelve graves were placed in the center of the open space, surrounded by a stone wall with a metal coffin in the far back. Flowy, curling carvings were etched into each headstone and the coffin's lid - writings in a language lost to time.
"Finality…" The horseman whispered, and despite it possessing no mouth or face, Saya could feel it smile. The Dragonborn drew Stormblade and a grim chuckle escaped the ghost again. It reached for the upper edge of the metal lid and forcefully pried the coffin open, letting the iron slab fall to the floor with a heavy clang. Inside the coffin was a draugr, a desiccated corpse of a man in full Nordic-style plate armor, a battleaxe resting at his side and his withered face sporting a bright-red beard alongside a patchy mane of hair. The ghost stepped into the coffin, fading away rapidly as the draugr's eyes were filled by the familiar light blue light.
Saya took a step back when the corpse reached for its axe and left its burial nook, a dull growl rumbling from its throat. She immediately lifted her right hand, magical flames drawing to the center of her palm before shooting out towards the draugr. With speed unnatural for such an undead, the draugr ducked, but the fiery explosion was not entirely avoided as tongues of flame scorched its back, singing the hair and knocking the draugr down to one knee.
Seizing the opportunity, Saya lunged forward with a stab to the neck. The blade lodged itself deep in the sinewy flesh, but wasn't fatal. Seemingly annoyed by this injury, the undead swung its axe in a forceful haymaker. In the spur of the moment, the Dragonborn stepped on the draugr's shoulder and jumped over it, coming down with another slice that embedded Stormblade in her opponent's skull. The stunned draugr had no time to retaliate by the time she pulled it out again and struck from the side with a powerful chop, splitting the draugr's neck and letting its mangled head fall to the floor. The body went limp and collapsed to the floor, unmoving as its weapon dropped to the floor.
Saya took a moment to admire her work before releasing a relieved sigh. As her lips mouthed another incantation, a small blue flame sparked up from nowhere, circling her figure and providing some light. Cemetery or not, this was a Nordic ruin, so there was probably something to loot - and sure enough, off behind the coffin, the Dragonborn's trained eye recognized the shape of a chest. She knelt down and the magical spark moved behind her, providing light as she rifled through her pockets for a lockpick and quietly began to pry the old rusted lock open. Constant small clicks disrupted the silence of the area, and soon enough her mind began to blank out the sound, getting used to it.
So much so that when the headless body grasped the handle of its axe again and rose up to follow her, she did not hear it. Its steps were quiet, as if practiced, and even the heavy armor was nigh-silent. Saya continued picking at the lock, biting her lip before she finally heard the click she was looking for and the lock turned, allowing the chest to be opened.
Then, her ears twitched. A growl came from her side, somewhere in the grass. She turned, and her eyes widened when she saw the draugr's head looking directly at her, its skull split open yet its eyes still glowing with that azure spark of undeath. She looked behind her just in time to see the draugr winding up an overhead slash and gasped.
"FEIM!" Saya's lips parted in a Shout and her body flashed out of existence. The axehead passed through her harmlessly, smashing into the chest and breaking a hole in the lid. A gurgle that was probably a groan escaped the draugr's throat as the creature struggled to pry its weapon out of the rotted wood. Using this momentary break, Saya scanned the area with a quick look. When her eyes locked onto the severed head in the grass she immediately made a beeline for it, stepping through both the chest and the draugr. Her right hand grabbed the head by whatever hair still remained while her left unsheathed the dagger on her hip with a hiss.
And with all the ferocity of a really, really tired person, she plunged the blade right into its eye socket. The light in its not-eyes went out as a final soundless breath left its dessicated lips, and the headless body collapsed to the ground with a dull thud. Saya looked back, regarding the corpse with a suspicious gaze, and then gave the head a long, long stare… before promptly tossing it into a wall and following up with a fireball that scorched the thing black. For good measure.
The Dunmer hummed to herself gleefully as she opened the chest. It was only a formality now, of course - the lid was completely smashed, she could probably just reach in through the hole - but it did make her feel good about picking the lock. Her pack gradually filled up with jingling coins and small trinkets, rings and amulets that were probably near worthless by now… or priceless antiquities, depending on the buyer. Her little happy streak was interrupted only once, when she pulled out a piece of thick black string with five dried pieces of… something. It looked almost like jerky, but it seemed improperly dried. Rotted, even.
She squinted. They looked kind of like… tongues?
"Eugh." Without another thought, she tossed it away into the grass. If it's going to rot, she'd rather it rot over yonder and not in her pack. A few more minutes passed until the chest was emptied completely, and the Dragonborn stood up with a loud whistle. Five seconds passed. Then ten. Then a minute.
And then, with a curse under her breath and a pack on her shoulders, Saya walked off into the night to look for her goddamn horse.
I swear to all the gods there are, I must've spent like an hour trying to get Annie back. I think she got spooked by the fire. Or the fighting. Or the draugr…
Shit, this kind of thing is why we usually just leave our horses at the stables. Riding around is convenient, sure, but despite Lydia's claims I doubt you can really climb a mountain with a horse, and considering they run off after the first signs of danger - they're much more trouble than they're worth.
And they're worth quite a bloody lot.
...wait, this is past midnight, I should probably mark this.
Fredas, the 12th of Hearthfire, 4E201
There we go, that's better.
Once I had Annie reined in properly, I found another ruin. "Deadman's Cairn", I think it's called. It'd still be an hour or two to get back to Whiterun, and frankly, I really couldn't be asked to ride all the way there with a half-asleep horse and a half-awake rider. So, I grabbed whatever gear I still had on me and set up camp in there.
Before I went to sleep, I actually went deeper into the cairn. There wasn't anything to kill in there, but also nothing to loot. The work of some other adventurer, if I had to guess. Or group of adventurers. There's a lot of bodies here.
I did find a word wall inside, though. I could recognize some of the words thanks to Sahloknir's memory: 'Qethsegol' meant 'bones of earth', but I think here it just meant 'stone'. 'Jun' is 'king'. That's about all I could understand from the whole thing.
The word that whispered to me was 'Yol'. I don't know what it means, but it feels… fierce. Dangerous, even. Some kind of extremity. I'll write it down along with the other symbols I can decipher.
Oh right, I should probably read the book that Delphine got me. Let's see what Farengar managed to cook up.
"Where was it… ah, right. There it is." Saya muttered to herself as she pulled out a small black tome from her backpack. The cover was not anything fancy, simple dyed black leather, but the Daedric letter 'Oht' depicted on the front identified the book as a spell tome of the Conjuration school. For a moment, the Dunmer wondered if Farengar was trying to make the book inconspicuous or if he was just being cheap, but quickly discontinued that train of thought. He was definitely just being cheap.
Getting comfortable in her bedroll, Saya took a deep breath before opening the tome. When she did, the text inside immediately lit up and the pages began turning to ash, rapidly burning up in light blue flames that seemed to spark out of nowhere. The Dragonborn's eyes flashed with the same color once the entirety of the book had vanished, and she released a deep sigh.
The practice of spell tomes was relatively recent - the first prototypes were being made just before the times of the Oblivion Crisis. To this day, though, they were still rather expensive, as the only way to produce them requires a very experienced mage. First, the mage in question would inscribe all their knowledge about a specific spell into a book. Then, a specific enchantment would be placed on it that would transfer all that knowledge and understanding of said knowledge directly into the mind of the reader. As such, the incantation to the spell was already ingrained into Saya's memory as though she came up with it herself.
"Now, let's see what you actually do…" She murmured, closing her eyes. Her right hand moved in accordance to the motions inscribed in the book as she mentally recited the mantra required for casting the spell. She felt her fingers pull at the flow of magicka in the air, as if dipping her hand into water, and its otherworldly cold concentrated in the center of her palm. The end of the spell's gesture required placing her hand out forward with a clenched fist, which she did with a soft exhale.
Moments later, she felt a weight on her forearm, as though something was placed on top of it. The Dragonborn opened her eyes, and couldn't help but instinctively squeak. Atop her bracer sat a falcon with black feathers that faded into light grey on the belly, tail, and the tip of the wings. There was one thing that gave away its unnatural origins - its eyes were a deep, dark purple, with a glowing yellow pupil. The bird tilted its head, curiously looking at the surprised Saya, who was staring back with almost childish amazement at the daedric avian.
"Okay, little guy… um… I'll just write something up really quick." She carefully put the bird on a nearby rock and ripped out a page from the back of her journal, scribbling away under the curious, watchful eye of the summoned creature.
When Lydia awoke, the first thing she noticed was the very apparent absence of her Thane. Cautiously, the housecarl dressed and grabbed her sword, which she always kept by the bed, and strapped it to her belt while descending downstairs. Breezehome didn't have many rooms to check, and every single one of them was empty. The Nord sighed in exasperation, shaking her head as she figured that Saya had left for another shopping trip. The housecarl put on her boots, grabbing her key to Breezehome and opening the door to go searching for her Thane in the marketplace.
Instead, she was met with… a bird. Just a bird calmly sitting on the sign in front of their house that said "Breezehome", staring at her with its big beady eyes.
Eyes that were, for some reason, glowing.
"What are you-" the housecarl's line was interrupted with a harsh, high-pitched squawk before the falcon raised one of its legs, shaking it. At first, Lydia was confused at this, but then she noticed the small piece of paper attached to the avian's limb. She carefully reached for the falcon, pulling the paper out and unfolding it. It read:
"Good morning, Lydia!
I may or may not have followed the ghost that you told me not to follow. Don't worry though! I dealt with it, and I'm uninjured. I found an empty ruin to nap in, but if all goes fine then I should be back by tomorrow noon.
Signed, Saya"
Slowly, Lydia looked back up to the bird. It looked back at her. Then, it squawked again and began flapping its wings before promptly disappearing into a cloud of purple mist. Lydia looked at the note again, then at where the bird had just been, sighed, and turned around, closing the door behind her.
