Kalin of High Rock
Faal Lun Vahdin
The Grey monks had humored me as they could, but their patience was as limited as their supplies there at the very throat of the world. So it was that I struck fourth from High Hrothgar to hunt the beast that had become an obsession.
I traveled the lands, Arvak and I. I followed rumors of profane alters erected by cultists and priests in dark ages long dead. I looked into fishwives' tales of dragons seen a roost on distant mountain tops. From the tallest peaks to the very belly of the earth, I chased the legend. Atop mighty Arvak, I rode the length and breadth of this great land. From Ivarstead to Rorikstead, Dawnstar to Winterhold. From the wind-worn bluffs of Solitude to the walls of rebellious Windhelm.
Finally, at my wits end and weary from the road, I traveled to Morthal. A week at rest, a mug of warm cider and time spent in front of a cheerful hearth with good friends. Ah, Morthal. All was quiet, I reined Arvak to a halt to made small talk with Aslfur. Aslfur, Jarl Igrid's hoskarl, a stout and honorable Nord.
"Hail, Aslfur!" I said cheerfully, cheerfully as I was able. Arvak returning to The Soul Cairn in a torrent of purple flame as I leaped from the saddle and stood before my old friend.
The Aslfur looked at me in the failing light, recognition slowly dawning on his chiseled features. I could hardly blade him, I had not been through the Hjaalmarch in nearly a year. When last he met me, I wore the dusty robes of a Winterhold. Now here I stood before him in the mantle of a warrior, armor hewed from the very bones of dragons. I had grown into quite the battle mage, and I greatly looked forward to tell him of my adventures, if he would but pay for the mead.
Aslfur's slow won expression of pleased surprise soon curdled into horror as his eyes drifted to the looming rooftops behind me.
"Ya-NA-HOS!!" The thu'um cracked through the air. The voice that bore it was terrible indeed, and big as all out doors. Too big to be human..Larger even than any of dragon-kind I had yet encountered. With no time to react, I whirled about, facing the beast that sat perched atop the Thuramgist's hut. My spell of greater warding ready, I held out my hand and stood between the frightened man and the beast above us. The shout of drained vitality tore through the air dissipated against my shimmering ward with a crackling hiss.
"Flee, Aslfur! Run, rouse the city watch!" I rasped in a hushed command over my shoulder. The creatures unearthly eyes, each one quartered to four orbs in its hollow sockets, followed the nord as he fled. Its body tensed as it prepared to take flight in pursuit of easy prey, the hut's thatched roof shifted and crumbled as the creature flung itself skyward.
"Joor Zah Frul!!" The shuttered windows and weathered wooded doors of Morthal shook as I unleashed my own thunderous thu'um. The very words that lay low The Eater of Words shook this legendary beast to the depths of its blackened soul. Its flight hobbled, it wheeled in the air before coming to a controlled crash across the bridge. There it thrashed and bellowed, venting its fury on timber mill with jets of red flame and razor frost.
The bells rang out, the city watch swarmed. Stout nords all, they rallied even in the face of this ancient and unspeakable horror. The dragon collected itself, the pain inflected by my dragon-rending thu'um quickly dissipating. With a flick of my wrist, I summoned forth Arvak from the Soul Cairn and flung myself into the saddle.
The supernatural speed the undead stallion bore me through the ranks of the rallied Morthal guard as I stormed across the bridge. My mighty dragon bone sabre held high above my head, I was the image of Shor's fury made flesh. With a concern for the safety of Morthal in my heart, I reigned Arvak to a halt. The spectral steed whinnied and reared, kicking the the air with his dessicated front legs. Taking the moment to warn the brave defenders of the Hjaalmarch not to cross the ford, I spurred Arvak's dessicated sides and once more plunged towards my quarry.
A second time beast affixed his eight-eyed gaze upon me, so unlike any dovah I had yet encountered. With a blast of flame from its maw, it put an end to my overly bold charge. Unhorsed, I looked on helplessly as staggering Arvak once again evaporated to the outer-realms.
The wyrm circled now, each stomping step closer than the last. It was cautious, unsure how to approach this unwelcome and unassuming mortal that dared stand between it and its prey. I readied another ward as the dragon's throat swelled with a gout of biting frost. The ensuing torrent split and dissipated against my outstretched hand, the shimmering ward working its magic once more. Seizing the initiative, I loosed my dragon bone bulwark from my shoulder. With a burst of speed, I charged at the creatures head, bashing it with the broad face of my shield. The behemoth staggered and reared, roaring indignantly. With a thrust, I struck at the creatures exposed throat. My enchanted bone blade drawing a steady flow of dark blood from the beasts rocky hide.
It reeled, attempting to flee skyward once again. The rain of arrows from the Morthal city guard troubling the dovah not. Broken shafts and dented heads showered about me as I readied another mighty shout.
"Joor Zah Frul"! A second time I parted the air with that most fearsome thu'um. A second time the dragon cried out. No longer a roar of rage or defiance, but a shriek of pain. The fear of death had griped its ancient mind. A return to the tomb The World Eater had all too recently liberated it from. No, worse. A true death, a final death. For surely this tiny mortal it now faced was the fabled Dovahkiin. Its immortal soul would be devoured. Consumed. The horror of mortality made real, a terror that crippled the minds of the immortal brood of akatosh.
Hot blood oozed from the creatures neck. Its movement slowed as the earth greedily drank in its life essence. I circled with deliberate confidence, the upper hand gained. The creatures pitiless eight-eyed stare betrayed none of the fear it surely felt. Looking into those haulting segmented eyes, I knew surely this was the creature of legend. This was the monster I hunted.
It hissed and snapped languidly, its vitality gone, its life nearly spent. I deftly blocked a blow from its toothed beak, razor fangs falling harmlessly against my sturdy shield. I parried another with the flat of my blade, the creature bit into the blood-soaked mud at my feet.
"I am the warden of Skyrim, Dovah. I am the student of Paarthurnax." I boasted, standing as tall as a diminutive breton woman is able. The creature cowered, its jaw lowered to the ground. It hissed and growled its displeasure, long neck coiled defensively, wing-shrouded body slung low to the earth.
With a sudden ferocity I raised by blade a final time. Stepping aside and finding my mark behind the dragon's curling black horns. The blade, forged of the bones of the dovah's slain kin, struck true and bit deep. The creatures massive body heaved with the near-decapitating blow. It clawed and coiled unto itself like a stricken snake, twitching its final spastic movements before growing still with a gurgled hiss. Dead, finally and truly.
The dragon's blackened hide paled, a white glow surrounded the freshly made corpse. Gently at first, then steadily brighter. The luminescence grew to the point of blinding as the beasts foul soul attempted to escape into the nether. To cheat death once again, and await the possibility of rebirth on some unknown and distant day.
"Now know death eternal!" I threw my head back and laughed musically as the shimmering aura began to stream into my body. Escape thwarted, resurrection impossible. The dragon's soul was mine, briefly, as I consumed all that it was, all that it ever could be. Emptied, vacant, the carcass shriveled in an accelerated decay. Flesh yielded to bone in moments, bones to dust in hours. In days, it would have been as if the ancient one had never existed at all.
"Even legends may die." I said as I turned to face the astonished guardians of Morthal, gathered in throngs across the river. I thrust my blade skyward as the citizen defenders of Morthal cheered in approval.
I traveled the lands, Arvak and I. I followed rumors of profane alters erected by cultists and priests in dark ages long dead. I looked into fishwives' tales of dragons seen a roost on distant mountain tops. From the tallest peaks to the very belly of the earth, I chased the legend. Atop mighty Arvak, I rode the length and breadth of this great land. From Ivarstead to Rorikstead, Dawnstar to Winterhold. From the wind-worn bluffs of Solitude to the walls of rebellious Windhelm.
Finally, at my wits end and weary from the road, I traveled to Morthal. A week at rest, a mug of warm cider and time spent in front of a cheerful hearth with good friends. Ah, Morthal. All was quiet, I reined Arvak to a halt to made small talk with Aslfur. Aslfur, Jarl Igrid's hoskarl, a stout and honorable Nord.
"Hail, Aslfur!" I said cheerfully, cheerfully as I was able. Arvak returning to The Soul Cairn in a torrent of purple flame as I leaped from the saddle and stood before my old friend.
The Aslfur looked at me in the failing light, recognition slowly dawning on his chiseled features. I could hardly blade him, I had not been through the Hjaalmarch in nearly a year. When last he met me, I wore the dusty robes of a Winterhold. Now here I stood before him in the mantle of a warrior, armor hewed from the very bones of dragons. I had grown into quite the battle mage, and I greatly looked forward to tell him of my adventures, if he would but pay for the mead.
Aslfur's slow won expression of pleased surprise soon curdled into horror as his eyes drifted to the looming rooftops behind me.
"Ya-NA-HOS!!" The thu'um cracked through the air. The voice that bore it was terrible indeed, and big as all out doors. Too big to be human..Larger even than any of dragon-kind I had yet encountered. With no time to react, I whirled about, facing the beast that sat perched atop the Thuramgist's hut. My spell of greater warding ready, I held out my hand and stood between the frightened man and the beast above us. The shout of drained vitality tore through the air dissipated against my shimmering ward with a crackling hiss.
"Flee, Aslfur! Run, rouse the city watch!" I rasped in a hushed command over my shoulder. The creatures unearthly eyes, each one quartered to four orbs in its hollow sockets, followed the nord as he fled. Its body tensed as it prepared to take flight in pursuit of easy prey, the hut's thatched roof shifted and crumbled as the creature flung itself skyward.
"Joor Zah Frul!!" The shuttered windows and weathered wooded doors of Morthal shook as I unleashed my own thunderous thu'um. The very words that lay low The Eater of Words shook this legendary beast to the depths of its blackened soul. Its flight hobbled, it wheeled in the air before coming to a controlled crash across the bridge. There it thrashed and bellowed, venting its fury on timber mill with jets of red flame and razor frost.
The bells rang out, the city watch swarmed. Stout nords all, they rallied even in the face of this ancient and unspeakable horror. The dragon collected itself, the pain inflected by my dragon-rending thu'um quickly dissipating. With a flick of my wrist, I summoned forth Arvak from the Soul Cairn and flung myself into the saddle.
The supernatural speed the undead stallion bore me through the ranks of the rallied Morthal guard as I stormed across the bridge. My mighty dragon bone sabre held high above my head, I was the image of Shor's fury made flesh. With a concern for the safety of Morthal in my heart, I reigned Arvak to a halt. The spectral steed whinnied and reared, kicking the the air with his dessicated front legs. Taking the moment to warn the brave defenders of the Hjaalmarch not to cross the ford, I spurred Arvak's dessicated sides and once more plunged towards my quarry.
A second time beast affixed his eight-eyed gaze upon me, so unlike any dovah I had yet encountered. With a blast of flame from its maw, it put an end to my overly bold charge. Unhorsed, I looked on helplessly as staggering Arvak once again evaporated to the outer-realms.
The wyrm circled now, each stomping step closer than the last. It was cautious, unsure how to approach this unwelcome and unassuming mortal that dared stand between it and its prey. I readied another ward as the dragon's throat swelled with a gout of biting frost. The ensuing torrent split and dissipated against my outstretched hand, the shimmering ward working its magic once more. Seizing the initiative, I loosed my dragon bone bulwark from my shoulder. With a burst of speed, I charged at the creatures head, bashing it with the broad face of my shield. The behemoth staggered and reared, roaring indignantly. With a thrust, I struck at the creatures exposed throat. My enchanted bone blade drawing a steady flow of dark blood from the beasts rocky hide.
It reeled, attempting to flee skyward once again. The rain of arrows from the Morthal city guard troubling the dovah not. Broken shafts and dented heads showered about me as I readied another mighty shout.
"Joor Zah Frul"! A second time I parted the air with that most fearsome thu'um. A second time the dragon cried out. No longer a roar of rage or defiance, but a shriek of pain. The fear of death had griped its ancient mind. A return to the tomb The World Eater had all too recently liberated it from. No, worse. A true death, a final death. For surely this tiny mortal it now faced was the fabled Dovahkiin. Its immortal soul would be devoured. Consumed. The horror of mortality made real, a terror that crippled the minds of the immortal brood of akatosh.
Hot blood oozed from the creatures neck. Its movement slowed as the earth greedily drank in its life essence. I circled with deliberate confidence, the upper hand gained. The creatures pitiless eight-eyed stare betrayed none of the fear it surely felt. Looking into those haulting segmented eyes, I knew surely this was the creature of legend. This was the monster I hunted.
It hissed and snapped languidly, its vitality gone, its life nearly spent. I deftly blocked a blow from its toothed beak, razor fangs falling harmlessly against my sturdy shield. I parried another with the flat of my blade, the creature bit into the blood-soaked mud at my feet.
"I am the warden of Skyrim, Dovah. I am the student of Paarthurnax." I boasted, standing as tall as a diminutive breton woman is able. The creature cowered, its jaw lowered to the ground. It hissed and growled its displeasure, long neck coiled defensively, wing-shrouded body slung low to the earth.
With a sudden ferocity I raised by blade a final time. Stepping aside and finding my mark behind the dragon's curling black horns. The blade, forged of the bones of the dovah's slain kin, struck true and bit deep. The creatures massive body heaved with the near-decapitating blow. It clawed and coiled unto itself like a stricken snake, twitching its final spastic movements before growing still with a gurgled hiss. Dead, finally and truly.
The dragon's blackened hide paled, a white glow surrounded the freshly made corpse. Gently at first, then steadily brighter. The luminescence grew to the point of blinding as the beasts foul soul attempted to escape into the nether. To cheat death once again, and await the possibility of rebirth on some unknown and distant day.
"Now know death eternal!" I threw my head back and laughed musically as the shimmering aura began to stream into my body. Escape thwarted, resurrection impossible. The dragon's soul was mine, briefly, as I consumed all that it was, all that it ever could be. Emptied, vacant, the carcass shriveled in an accelerated decay. Flesh yielded to bone in moments, bones to dust in hours. In days, it would have been as if the ancient one had never existed at all.
"Even legends may die." I said as I turned to face the astonished guardians of Morthal, gathered in throngs across the river. I thrust my blade skyward as the citizen defenders of Morthal cheered in approval.
