Last Time: L'laarzen slew Grelod the Kind, Dulurza teamed up with Xander to take Fellglow Keep, and Hjar encountered Molag Bal.
Learning New Things
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The first thing the mages of Fellglow keep saw was Dulurza's axe cleanly decapitating their flame atronach.
The resulting explosion got the attention of everyone on the outside of the ruin, but by the time they comprehended that they were under attack, the Orc woman was already upon them, roaring in challenge. All those on the ground rushed in to meet her at close to mid range, but one of them had a much more advantageous position. The pyromancer stood up on the parapet was perfectly placed to rain hell down on Dulurza while she was distracted, and grinned as he lit up fireballs in his hands.
That was until he was distracted as well, by a lightning bolt slamming into his shoulder. The mana burn cut all power to the destruction magic and he hissed, turning to see Alexander charging him with a much less impressive war cry and a glowing Staff of Jyric Gauldurson.
Xander charged up the staff and fired, but the Pyromancer was able to put up a ward in time to catch the next lightning bolt. Getting real sick of people doing that. Xander scowled and fired again, breaking the ward, then swerved left on his way up to dodge the firebolt that flew towards him, and then he was upon the Pyromancer, swinging his brand new Elven sword down on him.
The Pyromancer...dodged. Huh.
The Dunmer man slid to the left of Xander's blade, and Xander wasn't used to a sword that was so light, so ended up digging the thing into the stone at his feet.
Then the Pyromancer shoved, and sent him staggering sideways to stumble into the wall of the turret.
Well, that was embarrassing.
The Pyromancer prepared flame spells, and Xander (disarmed of his sword) swung around with Jyric's staff held in both hands and cracked it against the Dunmer's head.
That got a more meaningful reaction.
It was one of the most satisfying cracks Xander had ever heard, and sent the Pyromancer stumbling away, as Xander immediately dropped the stick and charged back for his sword.
He grabbed it, and tugged. Nothing happened. Tugged again. It shifted.
Come on, really-
He tugged again, and this time it came free, and he turned round triumphantly only to get body slammed by a thoroughly irritated Pyromancer.
He collapsed to the floor and the Dunmer dropped on top of him, delivering an angry punch across his face that felt like it broke his jaw (it, in fact, only caused a light bruise). The Pyromancer straddling him made a victorious grin, once again lighting fire in his palms, and preparing to roast Xander alive.
That was when the sword went in through his gut.
Xander's hand slipped off the weapon's hilt as he scrambled away, and the Pyromancer fell to the ground, expiring.
Woo! Yeah! I killed him!
Oh by the divines I just murdered a man.
Xander turned over and threw up.
"That was the most pathetic thing I have ever borne witness to." Dulurza remarked, walking up. "Truly, your existence is an affront to Malacath, Talos, and any other God that values honour or battle prowess."
"I just killed a man!" Xander protested, wiping his mouth.
Dulurza idly glanced at the nine other mage corpses on the grass nearby. "Uh huh."
"This is the first time I've ever done that, okay? It's a big deal!"
"It is." Dulurza admitted. "The first time an Orc child makes a kill, it is celebrated by the whole tribe. When a Child makes a kill."
"Oh shut up, I'm twenty one! How old were you when you first killed someone?"
"You're twenty one?" Dulurza snorted. "I'm nineteen."
Xander gaped up at her. "...You're kidding."
"You Men grow so slowly...and to answer your question, I was fourteen. It was some adventurer who had thought it clever to attack our camp by the cover of night. So I came up behind him with my handaxe and I-"
"Do not need to know, thank you."
Xander walked over and gingerly pulled his sword out from the Corpse-That-Was-Once-A-Real-Live-Person, holding it at arms length as blood and other insides-bits fell off it.
Dulurza huffed at the display. She snatched it from him, cleaned it off in a few short strokes, and handed it back. "There. Why didn't you just pull your dagger when he grappled you?"
"My what?"
"Your-" She growled threateningly. "You know what a dagger is."
Xander took a step back and held his hands up in surrender. "Yes! Of course I do, I just, don't I already have a sword?"
"Oh, you poor summer child..." Dulurza pinched her forehead and sighed. "Have you ever been in a fight before this?"
"I raided a draugr ruin a week or so ago?"
"Mindless zombies. Of course. And that's it?" He nodded. "Malacath, why did I pick the quest from the greenhorn..." She reached into her belt, and drew a large, green, wicked looking dagger. It was almost the length of his forearm. "You see this? This is mine. I forged it on my coming-of-age birthday." She put it in his palm and forcibly closed his hand around it. "Now you take this, and you put it somewhere easy to reach, and if ever you lose your sword or someone's too close to swing properly, you draw this and you stab them with it until they die, you understand?"
Xander nodded mutely.
"Good. Lose that and I kill you."
Dulurza stood to her full height (she had had to stoop to be at his eye level). "The people inside are bound to have heard that. We go in fast. You stay behind me. And given your uselessness is greater than expected, I want a necklace enchanted too."
"Yes Ma'am." He squeaked.
She rolled her eyes and continued on her way into the fort.
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Orthorn ran to grab his bars as the mage who had been guarding him found a sword sprouting from his chest, then slumped to the floor.
"Not bad." An Orc woman told the shaken looking Imperial who had made the kill. "You'll have to aim better if you encounter someone with armour, but all these idiot mages are in robes, so you're fine for now."
"Is now really the best time to be learning combat basics?" The Imperial whimpered.
"Of course. You're in combat."
Orthorn breathed a sigh of relief as they walked up to the levers. "Oh thank the eight! You're here to save me!"
The Imperial saw him, and his eyes narrowed. "Orthorn?"
"Uh, yes?"
"You bastard!" He slammed down the lever and Orthorn's cage opened, which was something he found he didn't like quite as much as he thought he would.
"What? What did I-"
"You just had to go and steal books from the college didn't you? And now look! I'm sieging a fortress! I've almost died five times in the last twenty four hours and it's all your fault!"
"Well, let's not get too hasty!" Orthorn backed up until he hit the far wall of his cage. "I mean, I didn't mean to, uh, that is to say-"
"Do I kill him?" The Orc asked, hand on her axe.
"Hmm..." the Imperial squinted at Orthorn. "No. He's about my height."
"W-what?"
"Those enchanted mage robes?"
"Yes, apprentice level, what-"
"Good." The Imperial started pulling off his own gear. "Mine are fake and burned. Strip."
8˂
"Is there something wrong, my sister?"
"Hmm? Sorry, what?"
Dinya Balu chuckled at L'laarzen's non-answer, as the Khajit paused in cutting her hair. "When you first came in here you were one of the chattiest people I've ever had the pleasure of meeting. And yet today you've barely said two sentences. What's wrong?"
"Sorry, friend." L'laarzen sighed. "It is only...have you ever lost control?"
"How do you mean?"
"Done something you did not want to do, because you could not stop yourself." L'laarzen extrapolated, holding her scissors a little tighter than was necessary.
"Oh. Well, I can certainly admit to yelling at my husband on more than one occasion where he does not deserve it." Dinya tried a small joke, and when L'laarzen didn't smile, "but no, nothing of any real magnitude. All my mistakes have been made while I was entirely cognisant."
"Then you are fortunate." L'laarzen sighed. "It is not pleasant. When I was younger, I did not even realise what I was doing was wrong. It was only when I tried to stop that I realised that I was no longer in control. I managed, for a while. Yet recently..."
Dinya nodded, slowly. "Is this, and you are of course not obligated to tell me, a matter of a Skooma addiction?"
"Hm?" L'laarzen blinked. "Oh, no! L'laarzen was raised well, I know how to handle my moon sugar consumption. Is Skooma a problem in this city? I had heard that outside Elsweyr..."
"Indeed." Dinya nodded. "It's every week, if not every day, we have one citizen or another coming in to pray to Mara for freedom from their dependence. Sadly, the issue is often not chemical, but mental. We take away the symptoms of their withdrawal, but they still remember the feeling. I pity them."
"Perhaps Khajit will have to look into it. It pains me for something my culture understands to be so abused..." L'laarzen trailed off, continuing with the haircut.
"So what was it? What caused you to lose control?" Dinya asked.
"Rage." L'laarzen replied, which caused her customer to startle a little. "Yes, L'laarzen does not seem the enraged type, does she? But...a child was being harmed."
Dinya stilled. "...Grelod, matron of Honorhall, was killed by a wild animal last night."
L'laarzen stopped.
"I'm...not going to ask." Dinya said, carefully. "But Grelod was hated by almost everyone in this city, the kids in her care most of all. Whatever or whoever killed her doesn't have anything to feel guilty for."
L'laarzen stayed quiet for another few seconds, then went back to her work.
A few minutes later, the door to the temple of Mara opened, and Brynjolf (in his civilian clothes) strode in, quickly spotting her.
"There you are, lass. I've been looking everywhere for you!"
She looked up, tilting her head. "Something wrong, friend?"
"I wouldn't say 'wrong', but not necessarily very 'good'." Brynjolf told her. "It's Maven Black-briar. She has a job for you."
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The door swung open.
Unlike most of the mages they had encountered so far (and even that one troupe of vampires Xander had freed) the woman inside the chamber looked entirely unfazed by the Orc in full steel plate and the Imperial in (new, secondhand) mage robes.
"So you're the ones who've broken into my abode, killed my subordinates and interrupted my research." She remarked, dryly. "How nice to meet you."
Dulurza grinned inside her helmet as Xander replied, "Likewise, even if we're both being entirely sarcastic. Who do I have the pleasure of addressing?"
"My name is irrelevant." The woman sniffed. "You may address me as the Caller. Now what do you want?"
Xander looked pointedly at the three books on pedestals around the room. "I'm looking for...yeah, those. They were stolen from the college, and I need them for a project of mine."
"How strange. Me too." The Caller allowed flecks of magic to dance around her hands. "With the amount of chaos you've caused, I don't feel particularly inclined to let you leave here with anything. Or even at all."
Dulurza tensed as Xander continued his (in her opinion fruitless) attempts at negotiating.
"Come now, we're both civilised mages. Can't we come to some arrangement?"
"What could you possibly have that I want?"
"Well, why don't you tell me?"
The Caller paused for a moment. "...Fine. Leave me the Orsimer and you can go with the books."
What.
"What?" Xander looked at her incredulously.
"Healthy test subjects are so hard to come by, as is high quality manual labour." The Caller looked Dulurza up and down, nodding to herself. "And this way, you don't even have to pay her whatever you've promised for her services."
Dulurza growled. Slavery. Of course. She reached up to her axe and prepared to-
"Done."
What?
Xander calmly walked over towards the Caller, flashing her a winning smile. "Go ahead. She's yours."
You lying, treacherous, weak, weaselling gutter skeever!
Dulurza scowled, drawing her axe and holding it ready. "I'll kill both of you if I have to."
"Sure thing, gorgeous." Xander yawned. "Mrs Caller, be careful. The Orc's faster than she looks, but you can probably blow her up before she reaches you."
"Hold on." The Caller half-turned to him. "Sword and staves on the floor. No tricks. And know that if you try and light a spell behind my back, I'll know about it."
"Oh, by all means." Xander drew and dropped his sword with a clatter, then undid his staff holster. "I get to watch you put this imbecile in her place. I'll sit and wait."
Dulurza tensed her legs as the Caller turned her attention fully towards her. She'll be able to get a spell off before I can close, but if I can strafe that-
That was when the Caller arched her back and screamed.
Behind her, Xander grimaced and withdrew the Orcish dagger, only to plunge it back in a second time, then a third, and Dulurza wasted no time charging forwards, swinging, but there was a purple swirl and suddenly the Caller was across the room, sagging against another of the altars and dripping blood onto the floor.
"You...haah...traitor!" She spat.
"I'm pretty sure what I just did was the opposite of betrayal, but alright." Casually as you please, Xander reached down and picked his staff back up. "Huh. This is low on charge." He pointed it at her.
The weak ward she was able to summon shattered under a single blast of lightning, and another bolt struck her in the head. She teleported again, appearing at the other altar and leaving a flame atronach in her place, but Xander turned and fired once more. This time she couldn't make a defence, and as her body crumpled, so did the Daedra.
There was quiet in the room.
"Don't go trying to enslave my friends." Xander remarked, calmly.
Then he turned to Dulurza, grinning. "So? How did I do?"
Dulurza, who had been staring mutely at him the whole time, pulled her helmet off so she could stare at him more successfully.
"What?" He asked.
"I thought you sold me out!" She shouted.
"What? That's not like me."
"How was I supposed to know that?"
"Well when Calley was done subduing you, she would definitely have killed me." Xander shrugged. "Plus, you're scarier than she is, and this way I get to steal all her stuff as well."
Dulurza sighed. "I should have just gone back to Solitude..."
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"Are you sure you're good to do this?" Margret asked, for perhaps the fifth time.
"I'm fine."
"But your hands-"
"I'm fine." Hjar tried to smile through the pain, but it might have come out as more of a grimace. It did hurt, hurt like Oblivion, but she didn't want to show it. "Trust me, I can get it all sorted. Are you sure you want to do this? You've helped me more than enough." If Nepos was Forsworn, it would be a lot easier to talk to him if Margret weren't there.
The redhead was adamant, however, shaking her head. "I've come this far, I'm seeing it through. And besides, I'm not letting you go in there alone."
That brought a blush, and a more genuine smile to Hjar's face. "Thanks. Now then, let's see what this old git's up to."
They entered the home they had been directed to, and found that it seemed relatively decadent (though that could have just been the Dwemer architecture). They were almost immediately accosted by a woman in maid's dress, who stood with her arms crossed in the centre of the hallway. "And who are you two?"
"We're here to see Nepos. We have a few questions for him, if that's alright." Margret spoke up, which Hjar was thankful for. She wasn't sure she'd be able to speak without the anger working it's way into her voice.
The maid scowled. "Nepos is not reviewing visitors. I'm going to have to ask you to-"
"It's alright, dear. Let them in." An old man's voice called from inside the next room.
"But sir-"
"I believe I owe these guests an explanation."
The maid sighed, but relented, stepping to the side. "Do not put any strain on him." She looked at them sharply. "He is old, and he needs his rest."
Rude little wench I- Hjar contained her response to a glare and a nod as she walked past, entering the room. Five or so men and women sat around a dining table, giving the visitors cursory nods, but it was the old man sat reading by the fire that waved them over.
"You'll forgive my helper, I hope." Nepos chuckled. "She does tend to get a bit overprotective of me."
"It's not her we have a problem with." Margret crossed her arms and looked down at him. "You're 'N' I presume."
"Yes, that's me." Nepos sighed. "I do apologise for that unsightly business."
"You tried to have me murdered."
"I did, yes, but I assure you it wasn't personal. And besides, you can't go spying in a hostile city and not expect repercussions."
"Hmph. Yeah, alright, that's fair."
"So you admit it, then?" Hjar felt hope rise in her chest. "You're a Forsworn?"
"I am." Nepos nodded. "I have been serving my king for many years, now. He sends me letters, and I send young men and women to their deaths."
"Your king?" Margret tilted her head.
"Yes. Madanach." Nepos replied, and Hjar's heart skipped a beat. "He rules the Forsworn from within Cidnah Mine. Thonar Silver-Blood may own the city, but Madanch rules it, and he will one day reclaim the Reach for it's rightful owners."
Hjar took a step back, reeling. She'd been worried, but if Madanach was in charge...well, all she had to do was get Nepos alone, she could explain everything! Her people were still here!
And then, Margret spoke.
"Wait a minute. Why are you telling us all this?"
Nepos gave them both a sad smile. "My dear child. What makes you think you'll be leaving here alive?"
Hjar froze.
"Wait." She stammered. "Don't. I'm-"
A mace crunched into the back of her skull.
Bone cracked, blood spilled, and Hjar collapsed to the floor, vision spinning. There was a shout from Margret, and sounds of weapons clashing and a table being overturned.
Dimly, Hjar realised that even if there were no more attacks coming, she was going to die. She didn't even want to know what the back of her head looked like, but a blow like that would kill a normal person, never mind someone with her condition. Her blood was boiling now.
She rolled herself onto one side to see Nepos calmly put down his book and draw a knife, walking over to her.
"Please. Don't." She gasped out, looking up at him.
"My dear, I've already proven I'm willing to kill." He told her. "Why would I stop now?"
"Because...I won't, ngh, be able to stop it if you continue." She answered, blood leaking from her mouth.
That did give him pause for a moment, but only a moment. He walked forwards with the knife, and brought it up.
She groaned, closed her eyes, and let go.
When his knife came down, it stuck into pale white fur.
An arm, coated in the same, came up to grasp his elbow, nails lengthening and sharpening to dig through his fine clothes into his skin.
Amber eyes, glowing, looked up to meet his.
Nepos the Nose had a brief second to be afraid before Hjar lunged up and bit into his neck.
Across the room, behind a furniture barricade, Margret ceased swinging her knives to deter her aggressors to stare in horror at the events happening behind them.
As the noises (initially of screaming but soon only of rending, tearing and biting) began to get louder and louder, the others quickly followed her gaze.
The great white beast that had once been Hjarnagredda looked up at them from Nepos' eviscerated corpse, blood dripping from a maw full of sharp, curved fangs.
"Werewolf!" One of the Forsworn screamed.
Then with a roar, it fell upon them.
Margret staggered backwards and sagged against the wall, closing her eyes against the scene in front of her.
It didn't take long for the noises to stop, replaced by a low, heavy panting.
She opened her eyes, and gulped. It was looking at her. It must have been eight feet tall, even hunched as it was, standing on two hind legs but in all other respects resembling a giant, terrifying wolf. Margret's eyes wouldn't stray to what lay around it, but the dark red that had soaked into it's white fur was proof enough of how the combat had gone.
It took a step towards her.
"Stay back!" She pointed one of her daggers out at it, with no idea if the little thing would even break the werewolf's skin, but to her surprise the beast actually moved backwards.
It whined.
Then it turned, and fled on all fours out the house.
Okay, how many of you did I surprise? Did you notice the little hints I spread through the previous chapters? Don't worry, more about Hjar will be explained next week.
Xander proves he's at least a little less selfish (or a little less stupid) than some people think he is, and L'laarzen is still dealing with her own actions. Some more there about her if you're reading closely.
Next Time: Someone drinks and makes merry, while someone else drags themselves sopping wet out of a river.