Chapter 4: The Gravefinder's Repose
The sky was started to turn red as the sun had begun its slow descend towards the horizon. Traveling along the Red Ring Road, the Scorpion Daedra and the Breton reached an old wooden fence running along the side of the path. A sign hanging from a rotting timber post identified the ramshackle dwelling up ahead as the Roxey Inn.
"C-c-civilization. An inn. Finally. I was just about to dave—cave in and open the Shadowbanish Wine." The necromancer started to fumble as he tried to trot over towards the inn.
"We wouldn't be running so low if you'd pace yourself a bit." Clare kept her stride. She'd get there when she got there, and if she happened to watch Valbanill fall on his ass, all the more entertaining for her.
"W-what are you talkin' about, Sadlygrove?" Valbanill turned back around, looking at the Scorpion Daedra as he began to walk backwards. "I am pacing myself."
"That makes me wonder what you're like when you overdo it." Clare smiled. "You must be a hoot at parties."
"You have no idea."
"I've got a few."
Clare was glad they made it to an inn. They were running low on the surplus of cheese and lettuce they had plundered from Vilverin and she was getting very hungry.
"Must be a popular place." Clare noticed that there were several people milling about, far too many for what the small building could reasonably house over the course of one night. She wondered if they would even be able to rent a room at all.
"Uh, you better give me the Amulet of Kings."
"Huh? What for?" Clare stopped and looked at her companion.
"It's pretty noticeable on you, c-considering you wear it like a fuckin' trophy. The Emperor is dead, and news is-s sure to have travailed, traveled faster than us. What w-with horses an' all. W-we-e walk in on a group of people and they see a Daedra wearing the Amulet of Kings and we're gonna have a bad time 'explainin' it. U-u-unless—" Valbanill burped. "You wanna p-plan on killing anyone who gives us troubles. We have beeeeeenn killing a lot of stuff since we got dis amulet. So I guess that is an option."
"I see your point." Clare removed the amulet from the belts that laced across her chest and handed it over to the necromancer. "That's a scary level of common sense coming from someone so sauced."
"T-that's a scary lack of sense from someone so sober." Valbanill put away the amulet, keeping it completely hidden from sight.
"Huh, guess you got me."
"But can I keep you? The pretty ones always get away."
"Keep sweet talking me and you'll do just fine."
"A-and by 'just fine,' you mean I'll get d-ditched at some point."
"You've got nothing to worry about, Valbanill. I wouldn't ditch you. I could always use a pack mule and a map-reader. Nobody reads that map the way you do."
"Now who's the sweet-talker?"
Once they reached the front lawn Clare dropped the wooden chest of repair hammers.
"I'm tired of carrying these things around. We're selling them here." Clare skittered over and opened up an unassuming wooden barrel. She found a neatly folded cloth and a lockpick, both of which she liberated from their wooden prison. She felt no guilt taking the items, she had long ago learned that the people of Mundus seemed not to mind if an individual plundered from the occasional barrel, so long as it had not been locked shut.
"Did you go daft in the head, scorpion girl? We can't sell repair hammers at an inn like this. They won't fetch a good price, if we-e can even fell-sell them at all."
"Fine, you lug them all the way to the next town."
"We haven't even come across the first town yet."
"My point exactly," Clare nodded as she looked over at a bay horse that was tied up near the inn. "It's been nothing but ruins and old forts up until this point. This has not been a quick journey and I'm not hefting these damn things any further. Being the pack mule is supposed to be your job. You promised."
"There's too many for m-ee to carry."
A realization suddenly hit Clare like a Daedric warhammer. "You to carry? You could have summoned your skeletons to carry this crap for us!"
"Oops. D-didn't' think of that."
Clare groaned. "How could you not? You use those things to do everything."
"You didn't think of it either."
Clare grumbled to herself, clacking her claws in irritation as she made her way towards the inn's door. She left the chest of repair hammers behind; Valbanill could deal with them the rest of the way.
Jakrelkill summoned a pair of skeletons. "Stay here and guard this chest of repair hammers," he instructed his undead henchmen. "I don't want anyone stealing this s-stuff."
Just as Valbanill was about to follow Clare, he paused. He swore he saw someone in the crowd of people milling around the inn that he recognized. The alcoholic necromancer blinked several times, but lost track of an Argonian he thought looked familiar. He shrugged and followed after his traveling partner.
Clare opened the door but could barely fit her large form through the entryway.
All at once the Scorpion Daedra suddenly felt countless eyes fall upon her. On her left, the Nord innkeeper just gawked at her. People of every stripe and color filled the common room of the inn. Dunmer, Altmer, Bosmer, Imperials, Khajiit… a Breton woman that was slowly walking towards them.
"Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all of Tamriel…"
"W-where else would we possibly run into each other?" Jakrelkill asked as he stepped up along Clare's side. "A temple? They don't serve nearly enough booze at the Alter of the Nine. You look g-great, by the way."
The Breton moved toward the necromancer until she was close enough for Jakrelkill to smell her perfume and with her finger, she moved a stray hair out of his eyes. "And you look only slightly less dead than last time we met. You remember that, don'cha, Jak?"
"N-nno-o. Not really. You might have to refresh my memory." The necromancer wiggled his eyebrows in a sad attempt at flirtation. "Though I've heard you've moved on, baby. Hooker to Nerevarine. Quite a jump. Someone certainly put in the extra time g-grinding away l-levels and sleeping it off. Congratulations."
"And you've moved on… actually, it doesn't look like you have," she said, casting a sideways glance at Clare. "Still have a thing for beasties, I see."
"Well, they are the only ones that are ever able to keep up with me. Jealous?"
"Decidedly. Though, I have to say I have moved on from guys with sad dog eyes. I'll have you know that I am now the proud wife of the Ashkhan of the Ahemmusa."
The necromancer had to stifle a chiding laugh. "So you have developed an affinity for mud, dust, guar shit and romantic commitment. Fantastic. So, w-what brings you here?"
Clare's rearmost right leg tapped at the wooden floor in irritation. She had to actively resist grinding her fangs against her lower lip. Her armored tail possessively curled around her companion. She didn't like how well these two were getting along and she didn't like being ignored the way she was, especially since she was accustomed to commanding all the attention from strangers.
"Who are you?" Clare asked.
"Annika Blue," the Breton woman answered. "I'm here out of respect. My darling daddy had an unfortunate meeting with the Mythic Dawn."
"So you finally figured out who your daddy was."
"And mommy was a serving girl who serviced him all too well."
"Makes sense. So, how did you know how to find us?"
Annika's smile dropped. "Look, I… I was helping a friend… and I happened to be in Cyrodiil when I heard the news." She took a deep breath. "You were clumsy and easy to track. Plus your friend draws much attention… and I still have some connections."
"Some powerful ones."
"Indeed. So I think you should hand the necklace over. Forget about Jauffre."
Clare's six eyes narrowed. "How do you know what we carry? How did you know about Jauffre? We never mentioned his name or our purpose." Clare realized Annika Blue had some very real and reliable connections. The woman standing before her suddenly felt a lot more dangerous. Clare recognized that information must have traveled must faster than she realized since parting ways with the Blade, Baurus back in the secret escape route in the Imperial Prison. And she understood it must have been Baurus that set off the grapevine of news that eventually led Annika to them. Clare realized that she and Valbanill should have traveled faster; they had spent too much time poking around old forts and ruins. It felt like real danger had caught up to them.
"I told you I had connections," Annika said. "Look, we can make this easy. And I'll pay you handsomely for your troubles."
"I love making things easy," Jakrelkill exclaimed with a hiccup. "Especially if you're going to pay handsomely for my troubles. I'm a lover n-n-not a fighter. And of course, we'll have to agree to a method of payment. This'll be fun—"
"I don't believe it's yours," Clare cut in, her voice as sharp as her claws. "The Emperor himself entrusted me to take this amulet to Jauffre. Why should I abandon my quest now after coming so far?"
"Because it's the easy way." Jakrelkill turned to the Scorpion Daedra as if she had lost all common sense.
"I'm not giving it up so easily."
"D-don't be dumb, Clare. There's no need to start a fight with t-eh the fucking Nerevarine of all people."
"I'm not scared of any Nereva-whatever." The Scorpion Daedra clacked her claws loudly and proudly, drawing some attention from the other patrons milling about the common room of the inn.
"You don't even know who the Nerevarine is, do you?" Jakrelkill asked.
"Shut up, 'Jak.'" Clare mimicked Annika's nickname for Jakrelkill. "I don't need to."
"Why is it never easy?" The necromancer put a hand up to his forehead as if he were suddenly suffering a brain aneurism. Though he quickly turned his attention back to Clare, who looked like she was about to snip at Annika any second.
Annika reached for Jakrelkill's hand. "Jak, you're outnumbered; even if you and your… striking companion somehow manage to work your way out of this tavern, there are another fifty men outside—including several necromancers—and our old friend, Hides-His-Blades. Jak, I have no desire to hurt you, so let's make this easy; just give me the amulet, it is rightfully mine. And I'll pay you handsomely for your troubles."
"Oh, I'm striking alright." The Scorpion Daedra's clawed arms swept wide in an open display of aggression. "I'm about to strike you. I'm not going to just stand around and be threatened by some cheap whore," Clare hissed.
"Cheap whore? Have you looked in a mirror lately? You're the one wearing a bunch of old belts as a brassier. Of course, that sexy little outfit is entirely wasted on you. It's not like you're drawing all the boys to your yard with your shake." Annika drew her blade with a single, fluid stroke. All the patrons at the Roxey Inn followed suit. Clare didn't care; she wanted nothing more than to part Annika's pretty head from her tiny neck.
"Ladies, ladies. Please. There are other ways to settle this. We're all friends here. No need for excessive violence, unless it's in the bedroom. And speaking of… I say we find ourselves a room for the night and have a n-nice, wholesome threeway—"
Clare punched the necromancer in the arm.
"Look, Jak, I can prove it. If you'll just allow me the amulet for but a moment." Annika sheathed her weapon and held out her hand, ignoring Jakrelkill's antics and Clare's hostility.
Clare let out a prolonged, frustrated sigh of submission. "Fine."
Jakrelkill produced the amulet he had been hiding and handed it over. Annika slipped the necklace on and to Clare's surprise it didn't fall off.
Annika's eyes strained as if she were subject to some unknown horror. Her face turned several shades paler. She wobbled over to the nearest stool and sat down.
Valbanill followed after her. "What's wrong? The Nerevarine can't handle the weight of the world? Don't tell me you've only been regulated to helping out Morrowind."
Annika's eyes met Jakrelkill's, her gaze deadly serious. "We need to speak. Please."
Clare simply huffed. So, Annika Blue could wear the Amulet of Kings. A secret heir to the Emperor had come to them. It looked like her quest really was finished; they wouldn't have to find Jauffre after all. The whole point was to find an heir. That was easy, she thought to herself.
Ignoring the two Bretons, the Scorpion Daedra made her way over to the Nord standing at the front desk.
"Thank goodness someone that can help is here!" the Nord exclaimed with gusto.
"What are you talking about, woman?" Clare demanded.
"I don't know how to make this request any simpler, but to put it bluntly, Raelynn the Gravefinder must die."
"Uhhh… what now?" Clare asked. "Am I missing something? When do innkeepers start calling out assassinations on people to whoever walks through the door?"
"A few months ago, that witch of a necromancer decided to inhabit Moss Rock Cavern just north of my inn. I don't know what she does in there; frankly, I don't want to know. However, I do know that after she arrived, the woods at night became unsafe. I've seen undead of all types walking in the dark woods near the cave entrance. Now, this area's getting a bad reputation and my business has waned. Every day, it seems the number of undead increase. If someone can get in the cave and kill Raelynn, maybe we can stem the tide. Her death pays a handsome bounty. I hope you'll take advantage of this opportunity."
"Actually, I was wondering about getting a bed for the night," Clare said. "But, I can check into your little necromancer problem tomorrow." With her quest from the Emperor now complete, it wasn't as if Clare had much else to do beyond going home.
"There's a bed, of a sort. It ain't much, but it gets the job done. Ten gold a night if you're interested."
"I'll take it."
"It's upstairs, second door on the left. Don't say I didn't warn you."
"Oops. Forgot the gold. My friend has it. I'll be right back."
"So, what do you want?" Jakrelkill asked.
Annika looked up at him with tears staining her eyes.
The necromancer felt uncomfortable. "It's not like you to cry."
"This isn't easy for me; I want the throne. I'm tired of running. But what I saw…"
"What?"
"Jak, the wearer of the amulet will die. And gods help the bearer."
"I-I can't a-abandon… abandon…Cl—this quest."
"Oh for fucks sake, Jak, why not? Just give that thing the amulet. Let her seek the bearer alone."
"No," Jakrelkill didn't stutter in the slightest.
"Jak, I can find you work and coin… and a lovely Dunmer with fire in her eyes. Look, you helped me and I'm just looking to return the favor. Come on, don't do this."
"I'm seeing this through. I'm not leaving C-Clare to do it all by herself."
Annika sighed. "Since you can't see reason, then I guess I'll have to give you this." She reached over and gently planted a soft kiss on Jak's lips. "For luck."
"Oh, Annika," weary, somber defeat crept into Jakrelkill's voice. "You know I don't have any points in that stat. You'd have to do a lot more than that if you wanted to boost my luck."
Clare had nearly split her lip wide open with her fangs when she saw Annika kiss Jakrelkill.
"You two having fun?" the Scorpion Daedra rambled over. Her muscles had tensed, and her eight legs clattered with more noise than usual.
"I a-always do," Jakrelkill said. "Or at least I t-try to. Sometimes it doesn't always w-w-work out."
"I need ten gold for a bed," Clare said in an emotionless drone.
Jakrelkill produced the requested septims and the Scorpion Daedra quickly turned back and scuttled off towards the innkeeper.
"W-w-what's her problem? Where'd all her feistiness go?" Jakrelkill looked over to Annika.
"I know you're a stinking drunk, but you're not stupid, Jak. Or at least I like to pretend that you're not stupid."
"Oh, c'mon. S-s-she doesn't get to be jealous. She has no claim on me."
"Yes she does. You're already following her around like a lost dog." Annika handed the Amulet of Kings back to Jakrelkill. "And the two of you are heading into danger with this."
"Bah." Jakrelkill pocketed the amulet once again. "When am I not in danger?"
"You will be in more danger than usual if you don't go talk to her. If you want to keep following her, anyway."
The necromancer sighed. "I know." He started to trail after his Daedric companion, but then quickly turned back to Annika for a moment. "At least think about that threesome, okay?"
Annika shook her head and giggled. "Always thinking with your cock."
"I don't know what you're talking about. I don't own any poultry. And even if I did, I would not be taking advice from some miserable land-birds that can't even fly right."
Jakrelkill whistled sharply, loud enough to be heard outside. His two skeletons entered the inn with the chest of repair hammers in tow. They wandered over to Annika and opened the chest, presenting the repair hammers to the petite Breton.
"I-I offer this as a gift. This wa-ay you can always think f-fondly of me hammering away at you."
"I have more than enough memories of that. Keep your hammers, Jak. I think you might to well to sell them for the coin. Just try not to drink all the gold away in one night."
Clare opened the door to the sad little room that was to be her residence for the night. A small bed was shoved to the side of the room, along with a broken down set of dresser drawers. Little dust motes hung in the air. The room smelled of mold and despair.
The seized the old wooden bedframe with her claws and shifted the bed to the center of the room. It was already too small for her but there was absolutely no way she could ever lay on it while it was shoved against the wall.
"Hey there, scorpion girl." Clare heard Jakrelkill behind her.
"What is it, Valbanill?" Clare didn't even turn around to address him.
"Awww, don't be ore-sore, Sadlygrove." Jakrelkill shut the door.
"Not sore. Just tired."
The wispy Breton had to squeeze around the Scorpion Daedra to the opposite side of the room and climbed on top of the bed in order to get her to look at him. He presented her with some food that he bought from the innkeeper.
"I thought you'd be back there with your old buddy," Clare sniveled as she ate the offering.
"Annika? Nah. She's not a big, strong, sexy Scorpion Daedra like you."
"Trying to get me into bed that badly, huh? She turn you down?"
"I'm being serious. See?" Valbanill presented Clare with the Amulet of Kings.
"Uh… wasn't she ready to fight us for this?"
"She gave it back. D-d-doesn't want it. I-I'm used to rejection but this was a rather fa-st o-one."
"So, Annika just gets to change her mind and saddle us with this again? She wanted it. She can take it to Chorrol now."
"S-she doesn't want it, Clare. We're stuck with it again. W-well, not really. We could always lose it in the lake and go find a new adventure. B-but then some goblin might get a-ahold of it." Valbanill put the amulet away.
"Whatever. I'm still going that general direction anyway." Clare pushed Valbanill on the bed and pinned him down. She settled in on top of him and the bed, her eight arachnid legs, tail and two scorpion claws hanging uncomfortably off the sides.
"H-hey! G-get off!"
"Nope. You're my pillow for the night."
"I was your pillow last time."
"And you did a marvelous job."
"That wasn't in the job description."
"It's been amended. In addition to being my pack mule, you are now also my pillow."
"Release me or fuck me, Sadlygrove. But do not waste my time with this annoying teasing."
"No. You're not having me this night. And I'm not going to give you the chance to go and defile the sanctity of that woman's marriage."
"Awww, that's n-no fun."
Clare settled in, wrapping her arms around the necromancer tightly. There was no way Valbanill was going anywhere unless she allowed it. He seemed to acknowledge this and quickly gave up his pathetic struggling. She rested her head on his chest. It was no lie; he was comfortable. Not the warmest thing in the world, but she did enjoy the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. The rhythm quickly enticed the Scorpion Daedra to sleep.
Clare woke to the smell of slightly rancid bacon. She started to stretch out while still on the old bed. The Scorpion Daedra felt as if she had suddenly realized that she was catching on to the secret of success. It was all just a matter of concentration.
"Finally gonna get off me, scorpion girl?" The necromancer feigned to struggle against the Scorpion Daedra's weight.
"Don't you ever sleep?"
"I'll sleep when I'm dead."
Exhausted and still irritated, Clare rose and carefully navigated the stairs down to the tavern. The inn was still full of Annika's retainers, but Clare's rival was nowhere in sight. After eating the greasy slop the innkeeper dared to call a breakfast, Clare decided to step outside, and there she saw Annika Blue, saddling up her horse.
For a time, Clare watched from a distance until finally deciding to approach. Annika Blue looked up; gone was the bravado and condescending smile from last night, in its place was a sad resignation.
"Leaving without saying goodbye?"
"Good morning, Clare," Annika answered without rancor or sarcasm. "I said all my goodbyes last night."
Clare nodded, though was uncertain of what else to say, so she turned and skittered back to the inn.
"Clare, Jak was special to me in a time that wasn't so special," Annika called out. "I have a deep regard and affinity for him, and still, to this day, I admire him. He has quite the ability, but I am not sure that will be enough to keep him alive."
Clare walked back to the petite girl with blue hair. Annika represented everything Clare ever resented and longed to be, but somehow she couldn't bring herself to hate Annika this morning.
"You sound worried." Clare subconsciously tilted her head slightly to the side.
"Did Jak tell you what I saw when I put on that amulet?"
"No, he didn't mention it."
Annika grinned. "I suppose you both were busy. Make up sex is pretty hot."
"Ew. No. We just went to sleep, or rather I slept. You presume too much."
"I've known Jak long enough to presume quite a bit, but what the both of you do in tiny, dark rooms is not my concern. But I am concerned for the safety of an old friend. Well, the long and short of it is that the next bastard who places that cursed thing round their neck will certainly perish. The bearer, you, may perish as well. You're in for a brutal mission."
"I can handle brutal," Clare said. "And I really doubt this piece of jewelry will be the death of me."
Annika sighed deeply, then reached into the sack mounted on her saddle. After some digging she pulled out a small bag of coins and what looked like a shirt made of black leather, red silk and golden cloth. Annika handed both the gold and the shirt to Clare. "This was a gift from King Helseth; I think the colors would go well with your hair and skin and it is certainly more functional than those belts."
"Thank you." Clare was surprised at the gesture of generosity.
"Keep Jak out of the coins or he'll drink you broke."
"I'll keep that in mind."
Clare watched as she mounted the horse and started off, her army of retainers leaving the inn and following behind.
"Gotta get me an army of servants," Clare said with a tint of envy in her voice.
"D-d-don't you already have your own army?" a voice asked from behind Clare.
She turned to look at Jakrelkill Valbanill.
"Or do I need t-to summon some up for you?"
"I'm fine. Here, hold these for me." Clare handed off Annika's gifts for Valbanill to hold.
"You make up with Annika?"
"I guess you can call it that? She gave me that stuff. The shirt is nice, which is why I'm not wearing it. I don't want it instantly getting shredded." Clare started to skitter, heading past the inn and into the forest.
"Your army is much better than hers, trust me," Valbanill referred to the skeletons he could summon, picking up the previous topic of the conversation.
"Oh, I do. Could you be a dear and open that map for me?"
"Where we goin'?" Valbanill asked.
"Moss Rock Cavern. We're going on a little mission to find Raelynn the Gravefinder."
Just past the inn, the terrain became very steep as the pair entered the forest.
"Never h-heard of 'er," Valbanill said. "What are we doin' when we fin' her?"
"That Nord innkeeper, Malene, wants me to kill her."
"What she'd do?" Valbanill asked. "Steal away her lover or somethin'?"
"She's been summoning the undead. And her creations have been roaming the forest and making it unsafe."
"So, we're goin' after a necromancer."
"Yes."
"To k-kill-ill her."
"No."
"H-huh?"
"I'd like to talk with Raelynn if we can," Clare said. "See what she's up to. Why she's doing this."
"That's a-a surprise," Valbanill admitted.
"Why should it be? I learned it from you. Back when you talked with that necromancer in Vilverin."
"Not all necromancers know each other. And not all are friendly with e-each other neither. As for her lying around in a cavern… maybe she's got nowhere el-se to go. Maybe she's a lonely, sexy little thing…"
"What did you do with the repair hammers?" Clare cut into her companion's overtly feisty thoughts.
"Sold them last night. Didn't make much. J-just as I feared. How do you t'ink I got that food for you last night?"
"Better than carrying them around everywhere," Clare said.
They stopped as they found a sad looking wooden door placed over a hole in the rock face before them.
"This must be the place."
"Yes it is." Valbanill checked the map. "Moss Rock Cavern."
Other than the wooden door covering the hole, there was no indication that anyone, living or dead, would call the place home. Clare noted that there was indeed moss covering the rocks, it was an aptly named dwelling. It's not as if it could be named for anything else. Moss Rock Cavern sounded a lot better than Generic Cave #29. She slowly pushed the wooden door inside. To her surprise, it didn't creak.
As soon as she skittered into Moss Rock Cavern, the Scorpion Daedra was greeted by a dead rat corpse in her path.
"Lovely," Clare said with sarcasm.
"T-there are many ways to describe a rat corpse. But 'lovely' is not one of them. U-unless you really a-are into fucking the dead," Valbanill said.
The tunnel wound down and was blocked by another shabby wooden door. Clare pushed through it into a large cavern dominated by massive tree roots hanging from above like some natural chandelier.
A single shadow milled about the room. The spectral shape took note of the newcomers and hastily turned to greet them. Clare could make out that it was a male Breton. He wore long black robes and had an iron mace fixed to his belt.
"Hello there," Clare said.
The necromancer rose up his left hand and summoned a ghost while grabbing his iron mace with his right.
"Whoa! Whoa! Hey! We're not here to fight!" Clare raised her hands to shoulder height in an effort to demonstrate she wasn't trying to be aggressive. She hadn't even gotten the chance to introduce herself and already this asshat was trying to start a fight.
"You shouldn't have come here!"
"Hey, asshole! We didn't come to fight!"
"DIE!"
A bolt of lightning hit Clare. She stumbled backward, ripples of the electric attack undulating over her entire body. Emboldened by his successful attack, the necromancer charged at the Scorpion Daedra, wildly swinging his mace.
"JAK! Do something!" Clare demanded.
"I am." Valbanill had summoned a pair of skeletons to distract the ghost. The iron war-axes of the skeletons could not harm the ghost and the ghost's magical frost attacks did next to nothing to Valbanill's skeletons. But it all was just a distraction, for Valbanill was able to easily walk around the ghost and was able to give it a simple pat on the back. The simple touch produced wild sparks the consumed and dissipated the ghost in seconds.
"Hey, buddy," Valbanill called out to the other necromancer, who turned around to face him. "Its four on one now. A real gangbang. You've lost. G-give it up."
The necromancer quickly summoned another ghost. The necromancer heard the Scorpion Daedra coming up from behind and swung around just in time to try and dodge her stinger. But the Breton was too slow and Clare's stinger-tipped tail struck right at his head.
Clare groaned as she shook her tail, trying to free it from the Breton's head. The necromancer's ghost dissipated without being attacked, as often happened when its summoner was killed or otherwise mentally incapacitated. In this instance the summoner was mentally incapacitated. The Breton moaned and groaned and tried to form words but failed. He was no longer capable of speech now that a large stinger was embedded in his brain.
"That's macabre, even for you," Valbanill said.
"The idiot moved. I wasn't aiming for his head. Help me out here."
Valbanill's two summoned skeletons moved to pull the necromancer off the end of Clare's tail. Once freed the Breton gurgled a few times before dying on the floor.
"I was just going to stun him," Clare protested. "Try to get him to calm down so we could talk."
"So much for that p-plan," Valbanill said.
"Why does it work for you but not for me?" Clare whined.
"I h-have a way with people. You ne-ed to put more points into personality after you sleep."
"This guy was nuts," Clare looked down at the body. "Who goes attacking a Scorpion Daedra all by themselves?"
Valbanill's skeletons started to loot the corpse, which was incredibly intact due to the fact that only the Breton's head suffered any damage.
"An idiot?" Valbanill offered. "Or something-someone powerful."
"This guy wasn't that strong. That spell hurt, but it hardly did real damage."
"W-well, here's-ears why." Valbanill took a Spark scroll offered to him by one of his skeletons. "This is a low-tier scroll. This guy was a-a chump. If he's using scrolls this weak, he can't c-c-ast anyting stronger. I'm guessing that Summon Ghost spell was the best he had. He was desperate."
"He was insane. We weren't even looking to fight. He started that all on his own." Clare looked around to find a chest in the middle of the room. She tried to open it but found it locked. "I need this thing opened."
Valbanill moved to oblige. A quick Alteration spell revealed a weak potion of Frost Shield, lessor soul gem and seventeen gold. The contents were hardly a treasure trove and were a testament to just how impoverished the Breton necromancer was.
The two skeletons offered Valbanill the deceased Breton's stuff: the necromancer's robes, iron mace, rough leather boots, a dark shirt, and black wide pants. Valbanill cast a spell on himself.
"What was that?" Clare asked.
"Night-Eye spell so I-I can see b-better. I don't ha-ve the sharp eyes of a Scorpion Daedra, after all. P-plus I only get two eyes, you dirty cheater."
"Right." Clare looked around the cavern as Valbanill changed into the dead necromancer's clothes.
"Ho-how do I look?" Valbanill asked after he was done.
"Even the robe?" Clare asked.
"You don't like?"
"It's so… I dunno. Necromancerish."
"I am a necromancer."
"And it looks like you're wearing the official necromancer uniform now."
"D-don't like a man in uniform?"
"I like a man who's unique."
"Picky, picky."
"Over here." Clare waved Valbanill over to where she was. The main cavern emptied into a downward path to their right. They took it.
"Did you love her?" Clare asked about Annika as they walked in near-darkness.
"That's awfully p-personal," Jak said as he managed to hold in a burp.
"Well, did you?"
"L-l-l, the L-word is strong. I don't t-hink a person like me is capable of ush-such a thing. I think Annika figured that out at s-some point. Seems like it turned out for the b-b-b," Valbanill burped. "Best. She seems like she's happy now, I think. W-hich is good, because life would be cruel indeed if we both ended up miserable."
"Oh, so you're miserable, huh?"
"You d-did-id, find me rotting away in the Imperial Prison."
"Yeah, you're not exactly sunshine and smiles. You are quite the moon child."
They took a turn left and wound up in a chamber with two stone slabs and two skeletons. Clare made a point to destroy both on her own before Valbanill could help.
They found a chest with a weak potion of Healing inside.
"Not exactly high-end stuff," Clare said as she shook the bottle to make sure it was full.
"Y-you don't always g-get the good stuff when you're hiding in a damn cave." Valbanill took the bottle and put it in his pack. "Either that or these guys are as bad at alchemy as they are at casting spells."
The pair headed down another sloping tunnel where they found a rat and a mudcrab. Like with the skeletons before, Clare killed both before Valbanill had a chance to do anything. Clare almost felt bad killing so many weaklings in a row. Fort Chalman had given such a greater challenge than what the contents of Moss Rock Cavern offered. But when Clare thought of it another way, it was a challenge. One she was failing. She had originally come to talk, to hear the side of the necromancer, Raelynn. Instead everything had instantly devolved into violence. Clare mentally reminded herself that it wasn't as if she hadn't tried to talk to the Breton necromancer they had come across. And she had settled that she would still try to talk with Raelynn if they found her. Clare wasn't going to go mindlessly carry out assignation contracts from innkeepers without trying to dig a little deeper.
They went through a wooden door on their left, leading them to a large chamber filled with suffocating blue mist. Four skeletons milled around a collection of coffins in a deep recess further ahead. Clare looked and there were coffins held up on the walls with wooden pegs.
"I get a turn this time," Valbanill said. He summoned a quartet of skeletons right in the midst of their undead foes. "You've been hogging them all."
"By all means. It hasn't exactly been fun bullying all these weaklings."
"I love pickin' on those w-w-weaker than me." The room echoed with the creaks and groans of combat and iron weapons smashing on bones.
"I figured that," Clare said as the pair strolled through the skeleton fight. Clare paused to snip at one of the enemy skeletons before continuing on with Valbanill.
"It saves time and energy on h-healing spellsss afterwards."
They reached a wooden door on the opposite end of the cavern. Clare looked back to see that Valbanill skeleton's had won the battle. So if there had been any doubt in her mind as to the outcome.
Pushing through the wooden door lead the Scorpion Daedra and the Breton into a private chamber. The smell of rotting flesh was heavy in the air.
A small, hooded figure turned to them. "Agryn! What in Oblivion are you doing with a Daedra? I know you can't summon one of those!"
"I think you g-got me confused with somebody else, lady." Valbanill tried to move into the light as best he could.
"I don't know who you are but you—"
"Hey there! Wait!" Clare pleaded. She hoped this necromancer wouldn't be as stubbornly violent as the last one. "We're not here to fight!"
"Too bad. Because that's what you've got on your hands." The necromancer summoned a zombie.
The undead being was a grotesque amalgamation of spoiled, green meat and bones. There were huge wounds on the body, and the pointed ears on its head indicated it had been of Elven origin. What kind of Mer it once was could have been anyone's guess.
Clare felt disgusted as her claws cut through the soft zombie flesh.
The necromancer drew her steel mace and summoned another zombie, this one human in origin.
"C'mon, lady," Clare tried to reason. "I just down the first one like it was nothing. Do you really think summoning another is going to do anything? Can we talk, please? Could you put away the mace and your rotting, undead minion for a moment?"
"Die, cur!"
"You've got to be kidding me!" Clare cut apart the second zombie as easily as the first. She then made her way for the necromancer. She was going to pin the fool down and force a talk.
Red-hot flames streaked her way and enveloped the Scorpion Daedra. Clare skittered and thrashed as she was slowly being cooked alive. Then all at once the attack stopped.
An iron arrow stuck out of the necromancer's right eye. The necromancer fumbled before falling forward.
"Stop thrashing about. Y-you're not helping anything." Valbanill walked over and put his hands on Clare, enveloping her in one of his healing spells. The Scorpion Daedra was glad she hadn't put on her gift from Annika Blue yet; Clare would have been pissed to no end if her nice new clothes had suffered fire damage already. But thankfully that was not the case. The worn belts she wore would not last forever though.
Clare calmed down enough to see that Valbanill had summoned a skeleton archer, which had fired the shot that saved her.
"So much for weaklings," Clare grumbled.
"S-still want to play nice?" Valbanill asked.
"I don't get these people," Clare whined.
"You are a Scorpion Daedra."
"I am aware of that," Clare snapped.
"They're necromancers, not conjurors. They're not used to your kind."
"No one ever is. But it's not like I'm strolling through Skingrad or the Imperial City or something. I would think necromancers would be a little more… understanding."
"J-just because y-y-you're an outcast like them d-d-d-oesn't mean they'll be more understanding of anything."
"You're different."
"B-because I'm a remarkable example of what a necromancer can be."
"An alcoholic?"
"Ha ha." Valbanill's skeleton archer dissipated.
Valbanill relieved the dead necromancer of her hooded robes, stitched leather shoes and a Flare Scroll. The removal of her clothing revealed the necromancer to be a young Bosmer woman with long brown hair.
"I-I'll show you what I m-mean," Valbanill said. He cast a spell at the necromancer's corpse.
All six of Clare's eyes widened as she watched the dead Bosmer get back on her feet and start moaning. She wasn't sure whether she needed to attack or not. "What did you do?"
"Raise Zombie spell. It c-can reanimate the recently deceased to fight as a thrall."
"I haven't seen this kind of spell casting."
"T-that's because i-it isn't introduced u-until Elder Scrolls V. But th-is story has mods, obviously. Y-you're not even one of the ten playable r-races. You're n-not even part of the actual l-lore."
"Huh?"
"N-nothing."
Clare shrugged it off as some of Valbanill's occasional drunken ramblings.
With their opponent dead (but back up on her feet), Clare was free to wander about. Cairn bolete mushrooms grew throughout the room. There were mutilated zombie remains on a short, squat alter. Shears and calipers were lying near the undead remains, and Clare could only guess at what the necromancer was actually doing.
"Who could live in a place like this?" Clare wondered aloud.
"T-they could apparently," Valbanill said, and then paused for a second. "Y-you've never b-been to Spiral Skein, have you?"
"What makes you ask that?"
"Just a-a hunch."
Clare didn't see what that had to do with anything. In back was a statue of a regal-looking woman with shoulder-length hair and a small scamp-like creature hugging her base. There was a wooden chest near the statues, which Clare prodded Valbanill to open.
The wooden chest contained a Potion of Cure Poison, a Water Breathing scroll, a petty soul gem and a key.
"A key?" Clare held the trinket as Valbanill packed away the rest of the loot. "A locked chest holding a key to somewhere else. Talk about bureaucracy. How do these idiots get anywhere in their own cave?"
"Assuming the key is to a door that's h-here and not somewhere else."
"Where else would these losers go? They've been scaring away customers at the inn for some time now, as I understand it."
"True."
"These necromancers just seem to be rotting away in this cave." Clare looked at a bed off to the side from the main alter. An old wooden stand held nightshade and a Book of Daedra as well as two measly gold coins.
"S-seems to have all the comforts of home," Valbanill said.
"Home, huh?" Clare realized they had broken into someone's home and had been killing the inhabitants off one by one. The necromancers had every right to be belligerent towards them. Would she not have acted in the same manner if someone had broken into her home? And she was a Scorpion Daedra living in Mundus; Clare was aware and thankful that she hadn't ended up calling some random cave her home.
"Lemme see that key," Valbanill said. Clare handed it over. Valbanill cast another spell.
"What'd you do now?"
"Seeing where we need to go. We missed Raelynn a while back."
"How do you know? Oh wait, don't tell me. That magical spell you cast."
"E-exactly. O-or if you thought about it, you could have checked the map."
"Oh…" Clare trailed off.
They took out the map and it looked different from before. Instead of showing Cyrodiil, it revealed the layout of Moss Rock Cavern that they had traversed.
"There," Valbanill pointed at the green marker on the map. "That's where we want to be, correct? Where Raelynn is? That's w-where she is."
The Bosmer thrall continued to moan.
"Would you get rid of that thing?" Clare asked. "It's creeping me out. Did you have to strip it?"
"W-what? Don't like my naked undead Bosmer boob lady thrall?"
"No."
"This coming from the woman charged with necrophilia. You're a hypocrite." Valbanill took his undead thrall by the hands and started to dance about the room with her. The thrall lazily followed her master's lead.
Irritated, Clare put her claw through the Bosmer's chest and it disintegrated into a pile of ash.
"Much better," the Scorpion Daedra said.
"J-jealous much?"
"You tell me. You seem to be more enthusiastic about giving attention to dainty little Breton girls and undead Bosmer boob women than to me."
"Y-y-y-you are j-j-j-j-jealou-jelly. Jelly."
Clare started to skitter back the way they came.
"You are jelly. Peanut butter and jelly. Are you going to a costume party? Dressed as a jellyfish?"
Clare blew a raspberry. "And why should I be jealous of not getting your attention?" she muttered mostly to herself.
They backtracked to main chamber with the sprawling tree roots. They turned and took a separate route Clare hadn't noticed the first time around. The tunnel ended in a locked wooden door.
Clare looked at the key she held in her hand. She sighed and shook her head. "Of course, we spent all that time for a key to a door I could have easily just bashed down myself."
"S-s-sounds about right," Valbanill said. "I s-supposed this whole s-situation is some sort of interpretation on life i-itself or something."
For a moment, Clare thought about walking away. The meeting would likely dissolve into violence, if the other necromancers in Moss Rock Cavern were any indication. And Raelynn was likely their leader; the innkeeper knew her by name. But there was no telling what Raelynn was ultimately up to. It was likely aggressive and dangerous, considering what she had seen of their activities so far. The problem was Clare couldn't put her finger on what exactly the necromancers of Moss Rock Cavern were doing beyond creating undead thralls and letting them wander outside the cave at night.
No, Clare told herself. These assholes are up to something and I've got to find out what. I've come this far and killed already. Wouldn't make sense to back out now.
She inserted the key and opened the door.
Bone pillars coming up like grasping fingers dominated the room. Long-dried blood was splattered all over the stone tiles. Coffins were scattered everywhere.
An aging female Breton in brown monk robes turned to face them. To her side was a male Imperial in black necromancer robes.
"Who are you?" the old Breton woman demanded.
"I am Clare Sadlygrove. I have come to speak with Raelynn the Gravefinder."
"Regarding what?" the Breton snorted.
"Regarding her residence in Moss Rock Cavern."
"You are speaking to her. But what interest would a Scorpion Daedra have in one such as I? I do not make deals with your kind. I am not so foolish as to engage with servants of the Webspinner."
"I am not a servant of Mephala," Clare stated with annoyance. She had heard that assumption too many times in her life.
"Then who do you serve? And please, don't tell me you're so pitiful a creature to come on behalf of that sad innkeeper."
"And who is your summoner?" the Imperial necromancer inquired.
"How rude of me," Clare said, ultimately thinking she had already acted at the height of all possible rudeness when she had killed these necromancers' friends, but they weren't yet aware of that. "This is Jakrelkill Valbanill. Though he is not my summon—"
"Valbanill?" the Imperial necromancer repeated the name as he turned to Raelynn. "The Order of the Black Skull? Here?"
Both necromancers looked back to Clare and Valbanill and attacked instantaneously.
"Hey! Wait!" Clare cried as she was nearly zapped by lightning.
"Die, damn you!" Raelynn roared. She and her companion summoned a pair of zombies. Valbanill responded by summoning a quartet of skeletons.
Clare was surprised by the speed in which Valbanill moved. Her necromancer companion had already cut off Raelynn from escaping out the room's only exit/entrance.
"Leaving so soon?" Valbanill asked.
"You'll never take me back to High Rock," Raelynn hissed as she stabbed her staff at him.
"N-not our intention. Guess again." Valbanill grabbed the staff with his hands. A freezing wave of cold emanated from his bony fingers and spread down the staff. The wave of cold moved onto Raelynn's hands and up her arms. The elderly Breton woman tried to release her staff but found her hands already frozen to it. She struggled; trying to get away before anymore of the deathly cold chill ran up her arms to her body.
Valbanill kept his grip on the staff tight. Raelynn struggled so hard the frozen parts of her arms snapped off at the elbows. She howled in pain, mindlessly thrashing about. All of her knowledge of healing and the arcane arts were thrown out the window as she suffered the loss of both her arms.
The Imperial necromancer was intelligent. He kept his distance from Clare at all costs, summoning zombies to keep between them and hurling ranged spells at the Scorpion Daedra when he could manage.
But Clare was fast, able to skitter from side to side to avoid the fireballs and frost spells. And she was able to cut down the zombies in a single stroke. But between the bone spires and coffins everywhere, there wasn't much room for Clare to maneuver. Instead of allowing the environment to remain a hindrance, she turned it to her advantage. She grabbed one of the coffins in her claws and used it as added reach to instantly smack the Imperial necromancer.
The Imperial was stunned and stumbled to get back on his feet. But Valbanill's skeletons were upon him before he could recover. He disappeared under a flurry of bones and his own strained cries.
Clare looked to see that Valbanill had dealt with Raelynn. The Gravefinder was lying on the floor, bleeding out from her wounds.
"So much for diplomacy," Clare muttered.
"I-it was our own brand of dip-diplomacy," Valbanill said. "B-besides. Isn't this what the innkeeper hired you to do anyway?"
Clare didn't bother to answer. In some way, she felt like a cheap assassin.
Valbanill opened a locked wooden chest to reveal a weak potion of Detect Life and six gold. He grumbled. "Where's the booze? What kind of operation were they runnin' here?"
On the altar at the center of the room, Clare found a pewter plate with a ruby, sapphire, pearl and topaz. She looked over at a little stone figure of a Daedra, though she couldn't tell which Daedra it was. The lit candles cast flickering shadows as she took the jewels and gave them to Valbanill to hold.
"We'll need proof of her death," Clare said. She grabbed Raelynn's corpse in her claws and snipped off the head from the body. "Have your skeletons wrap this up as a little present."
Valbanill laughed. "I like the way you think."
Coming out from the forest and back down the hill towards the Roxey Inn, Clare noticed bedroll laid out right behind the inn.
"Wow, I doubt anyone has claims on that. We couldn't slept for free," Clare said.
"I-I ink-think that bedroll is a wee bit small for a woman of your… stature."
"And the bed wasn't small? That sad bed cost ten whole gold."
Clare and Valbanill circled around the inn and entered. It was empty now with Annika and her army of retainers gone.
"I could use some good news right about now. With that Breton girl gone I haven't a single customer to serve," Malene the innkeeper said as they approached the front desk. She gave Valbanill a dirty look; Clare assumed it was because of his new attire. "I assume you've dealt with Raelynn appropriately."
"Yeah, we killed her," Clare admitted as she plopped a wet bag on the wooden desk.
"What's this?" Malene asked as she opened the bag. There was a sharp gasp as she unveiled the contents.
"Her head."
"That, that wasn't necessary," Malene struggled to catch her breath.
"Had to prove it some way. You never said how. And this was better than bringing the whole body with us." Clare managed a wry smile.
"I realize it's in poor taste to celebrate anyone's demise, but Raelynn was evil through and through. You've done the right thing. I believe we had a contract. Here's my part."
The innkeeper passed off twenty coins to Clare. The Scorpion Daedra paused, looking down at the coins in pure disbelief. Had she just killed someone for twenty measly coins? Cheap assassin indeed.
"Thank you for saving my business, I won't forget it."
"You're quite welcome." Clare to had to keep herself from reaching across the desk and grabbing the Nord by the throat. "Have you heard any rumors lately?" Clare asked, hoping to fish out any information regarding how fast news of the Emperor's murder had traveled or if Annika Blue was just that must better connection than the typical person.
"Still no news out of Aleswell since everybody vanished. Strange business."
"Aleswell?" Clare asked.
"A small settlement to the northwest of here, on the other side of the Silver Road to Bruma. We've had travelers through recently that say it's turned into a ghost town. Everyone vanished without a trace."
"We might go have a look." Clare looked over at Valbanill, who merely shrugged.
"Might as well, it's on the way."
Author's Note: Copyright belongs to Bethesda Softworks.
This chapter was a collaboration with Lesliewifeofbath (who can be found over at DeviantART). Annika Blue belongs to Lesliewifeofbath.
I really enjoyed collaborating with Leslie. I'm not used to working with others but I would be willing to do something like this again in the future.
I played through the quest The Gravefinder's Repose several times while writing this chapter. There really is a bedroll right behind the Roxey Inn. The amount of gold Clare received from Malene for completing the quest is the lowest amount possible she will offer in the actual game. The base reward is 20 gold if the character is level 1 and it increases by 25 gold per level until level 30 where it tops out at 745 gold. Of course this doesn't match the story, as Clare is clearly not level 1. Clare has slept and received a couple of leveling messages during the story thus far. Though the first time she woke up in the beginning of Chapter 2 had no message that correlates with any leveling message that can be found within Elder Scrolls IV. I dubbed this level 1. Based on the other two messages Clare has received thus far she would be level 3 upon turning the quest in to Malene. But any 'leveling' has no effect on the story and the leveling messages are just there as a fun little nod to the game. I just gave her the 20 gold reward to be difficult because life sucks sometimes and you find out you slaughtered a cavern full of necromancers for a measly 20 gold.
