Chirurgeon
Active Member
Ah ok. Well I dont think I can really fix it at this point. It might be a result of the mod
The Nascent Ranger: Book 1 Responsibility
- Thread starter Chirurgeon
- Start date
Azir L'Stros
"So much treasure, so little time..."
It's ok, your story is still great 
Chirurgeon
Active Member
Chapter 16
The next morning all four rangers had different goals. Talon was going to head north to visit the rangers of Winterhold and Dawnstar, Halas and Faendal would return to Whiterun, and Willow was going to do some serious cleaning of the cabin.
As they bid their goodbyes a part of Halas missed the landscape of the Rift. But he did not miss the setting in which he saw that landscape. He felt bad for the other orphans that were still under the thumb of Grola the kind. He shook his head, hoping eventually to do something about that. The city of Riften with its ratway had so many bad memories it was best that Halas move on.
He had wondered what had happened to his friend Golldir who had aged out of the orphanage. He said he was going to try and find his aunt and maybe find some employment that way. However orphans often did not have much talent.
He shrugged and instead vowed to enjoy the day ahead. It was sunny and warm and the long days of summer were plentiful now. It was a few weeks till the ranger council on the summer solstice and he was anxious to get back to his training. They crossed the Treva river and besides stopping to harvest some slaughterfish eggs and other ingredients they made good time to Helgen pass. They climbed into the heights of the pass and he smiled as he remembered how Faendal had showed him how to rub snowberries on his hands to keep them warm.
The weather turned cold and rainy on the downside of the pass. After stopping in Helgen for some lunch the pair continued down the road to Riverwood. A heavy fog and soaking rain was their constant companion. It was a stark reminder of why its good to weather proof your gear.
As they descended to the plains of Whiterun it was nearly impossible to see the whole city because of the fog and rain. “The Bannered Mare ought to be packed today!” exclaimed Faendal. Inclement weather would often drive the locals to their local tavern in a way of escaping the gloom.
If they wanted to make the cabin by nightfall they would have to press on and not stop in Whiterun. That is exactly what they did. They arrived about an hour before sunset and Faendal decided to have Halas make some simple box pouches that he could put on his waist belt to hold various items. They were relatively easy to make and by dark he had made six of them. “I think Alvor would approve!” said Faendal approvingly. Halas nodded as they seemed to fit snugly and did not interfere with his movements. Hala also knew that he would have to use lots of trollfat to keep them supple and weatherproof.
Before bed that night Faendal told Halas that he was going to travel north to Morthal to talk to Marcus the ranger of the Pale and would be gone for a day. “We need to add to our supplies of vegetables in storage. Go hunting and fishing tomorrow and then trade with the folks at Rorikstead for a supply of vegetables. We should be able to get a fair amount of produce for some of the venison and salmon you get tomorrow.” He smiled as he said this because he knew his apprentice would work very hard to make Faendal happy. Inwardly it always made him nervous to leave him on his own as he knew there were dangers. Although he had never lost an apprentice, others had and it is often like losing a family member. He knew that Halas would be ok but there was an almost paternal instinct to protect him as well.
***
Halas was eager to get going on the day and decided he would fish for most of the morning and then hunt in the long afternoon hours. He would then work his way to Rorikstead and then back to the cabin by nightfall.
He had a favorite fishing spot now in a small pond off the flow of the creek that wound its way through to plains. Salmon tended to hang out there and that is what he was after. He had discovered that bees and butterfly wings were superb bait for catching the salmon. He set up a fire to start drying the fish that he caught and set about catching, cleaning, and drying the fish. While he waited for one to take the bait he cleaned or tended to the fire. By the time lunch came around he had four large filets that he was working on drying. Halas wrapped them up and packed them into his bag to finish drying back at the cabin. In the mean while he plotted a path toward Rorikstead using many of the landmarks around the plains.
The plains were rife with deer and elk. The beasts grazing relentlessly to gain enough mass to make it through winter. By the time he had gotten to Rorikstead he had bagged four deer and had turned Suriel into a pack mule. It had taken nearly four hours between hunting and skinning but it was quite a haul.
One of the farmers an elf named Reldith, had exchanged bags of potatoes, leeks, cabbages and bread for the meats. Halas was quite happy with himself and stopped for an ale at the inn where he exchanged more meats with the innkeeper. Satisfied with his journey and with sun descending toward the horizon Halas set off back to the cabin.
He spent the waning hours of the day finishing cleaning the skins of the hunt and as he did so Faendal returned. Surveying all the skins and other materials laying around he looked at his apprentice with pride, “I see you were successful in your hunt! Now you have to be successful in all the cleaning up!” He joked and rubbed the head of Halas as he walked by. Halas worked by lantern to finish the rest of the skins and came inside, his fingers aching from holding his knife for so long.
“I see you got some nice vegetables from Rorikstead! I will work on cutting them up and drying them so we can make stews in the dead of winter.” He smiled as he sipped some coffee from his mug. Faendal went on to say that Halas was to go into Whiterun and train with Jenessa the next day and then in the afternoon head over to see Alvor. “It has been a long time since you had some smithing training.” Faendal thought reflectively as set the mug of coffee down.
Halas liked Alvor and was anxious to learn some more blacksmithing techniques. The two chatted about various things mostly Faendal’s trip to the Pale. “Morthal is a dreary place. It is a post not coveted by rangers but Marcus seems to like it.” Faendal was reflective in his statement. He had basically said that he had been a ranger there before Whiterun. Halas was getting better at reading into what people say.
Halas headed off the next morning to Whiterun where Farkas and Jenessa beat up on the young apprentice and forced him to realize that he had much to learn about one handed combat. He was quite proficient with the bow and very comfortable with it but he simply did not excel at dual wielding combat. It took a lot of effort for him to get through the sessions. It was as if it was too personal for him. Jenessa still had not told him that he was facing some of the best warriors in all of Tamriel when she pitted him against Farkas and Vilkas. She also knew that she needed to give him some hope that he was successful. Jenessa saw in the boy much of what was in his parents and she wanted to nurture that. However her style of demoralizing her pupils to make them stronger was a tough pill to swallow for young Halas. She had an idea of something but it was unconventional for a ranger. The next training session she would try it out.
Halas spent the afternoon in Riverwood and Alvor helped him make his armor a bit better. Alvor showed Halas how to put more padding in the thighs of his pants and in more vulnerable areas of his chest piece. He had continued to bulk up since the last time they had seen each other so he allowed so more room in the various joints of his armor. “You are one of the bigger rangers I have seen. What is that Faendal feeding you?”, He asked curiously. “I don’t know I guess I hit my growth spurt.” Alvor nodded and finished fitting the armor again. He then looked down at his daggers. “We should probably give those a good professional sharpening. Looks like they have seen a lot of use!” Halas handed over the daggers and Alvor sharpened one and then showed Halas how to sharpen his own. “Ashame those rangers don’t teach you how to fight with a war axe. If you had two axes swinging at someone that would be something to see for sure.”
The idea kind of stuck on Halas. Maybe there was something to it. Alvor went over to a weapon rack and took down two war axes. “Put those in your pack and maybe give em a few swings when you want. They aren’t sharp so you shouldn’t hurt yourself too much.” Halas thanked Alvor and halas continued to work on various jobs that the blacksmith gave him until it was time to head back to the cabin again.
Faendal said that they would be heading out on foot the next morning. “You are going to be on a hunt for ingredients of all sorts tomorrow.” He said as he scooped up some stew with a hunk of bread. “Why is that?” Halas asked as he set down his bag on the floor leaning it against the wall. “Because my young apprentice the day after tomorrow you are going to be traveling to Morthal to train with Lami the alchemist.” Halas thought about that and realized that could be exciting or terribly boring. Time would tell he thought.
The next morning Faendal was making breakfast and packing for the trip to Morthal. He looked at his apprentice, who had just ambled into the room, and crossed his arms “since when do Ranger’s carry war axes?” , he asked with a tone of authority. “Ah well Alvor gave those to me and told me I might wanna give them a try. He said something about how its ashame the ranger’s don’t train in the art of the war axe.” Halas said honestly and a bit sheepishly. “Is that so? Well maybe he is onto something. There are rangers that use a war axe.”
Halas was serving himself some stew when he stopped what he was doing nearly spilling it. “Really? Who?” asked Halas curiously.
“Marcus for one uses them.” There was a pause and Faendal walked over to pick up the axes he had taken out of the pack. He ran his hands down the dull blades but did admire the simplicity and the weight of the weapon. He sighed and looked over at Halas. “Your father also preferred to use them.” Halas was taken aback by the statement and was in a state of disbelief. He wondered if Alvor had known his parents. “Did Alvor know my father?” asked Halas the question hanging in the air. Faendal saw no point in hiding the answer. “Yes he helped train your father. “
Halas tried to get more information from Faendal but he was elusive and insisted they get started. He changed the subject and suggested that Marcus help train him in the art of dual wielding war axe techniques. Halas seemed to like the idea and hoped it might give him more confidence in melee training. “You will learn to master one or the other I think.” Faendal said as he looked at his own daggers and then over to the war axes on the table.
The next day the pair set out in a rough circle and spent most of the day gathering all sorts of ingredients to be used. Things like lavender, tundra cotton, blue and monarch butterflies, red, purple, and blue mountain flower and even some nirnroot. Faendal showed Halas the road that led to the reach and ultimately Markarth. They inspected the large dragon burial mound near the road that led to Falkreath. They sat on a cliff that overlooked the vast plains and it was truly a sight to behold. Finally they bagged some game and gathered yet more ingredients before ending the day back at the cabin.
It was hard work walking all that way and they were limited on how much meat they could carry. Halas set to work salting the meat and more of the vegetables from the day before. The trick was layering the meats between layers of salt. Any moisture that got into the container would be wicked away by the salt. Dried salted beef would last for years this way and it could quickly be rehydrated when added to a stew. The same went for vegetables. And when the herds returned from the south and the vegetables were replanted the process would repeat. Any leftover could either be sold or given away. Often Ranger’s would give away any leftover meats they had to instill good will among the people they serve.
The next morning, having packed for a week as standard protocol, Halas and Faendal left the cabin and in the distance Faendal pointed out the small pass that they would use to get to Morthal. It looked relatively straightforward but it would soon prove why travelers stuck to the roads and not necessarily the shortest route between two places.
As the pair ascended the pass the horses began to act nervous. Suriel and Rugot both tensed up and froze. Ahead about a hundred meters right in the middle of the path was a big female Sabercat. Both master and apprentice dismounted and crouched down in the grass. The big cat seemed uninterested at this distance but should the two rangers and their horses get too close she would charge. “Can we get around her?” , Halas asked hopefully. Faendal shook his head. “Nope. And we would have to deal with her on the way back.”
“Ok well I will do my best to help you bring her down, “ replied Halas shyly. Faendal’s eyebrows went up at that. “Oh you are taking the first shot. It is your poison arrow that will determine if we live or die today.”
Halas swallowed hard and recounted everybit of his training. The cat watched them warily but made no moves . He first poisoned his daggers as he knew it would be his final recourse if the arrows failed. He then prepared his shot with his bow. The arrow notched and some of the poison looking like a glaze on the iron arrow head. He looked over at Faendal who also had his bow drawn. As he had done countless other times he monitored his heartbeat and breathing. He forced his heartrate down. Jenessa had taught him tricks in how to do that. Finally after a full minute he pulled the bowstring to the corner of his mouth and took a deep breath. He felt the microscopic bump of his heartbeat and then at what seemed the best moment released the shot.
The arrow sailed true and sunk deep into the shoulder of the beast. It was a big animal and the poison alone would not kill it. Halas watched as the animal dug its claws into the earth and bounded toward them. His second shot was spot on as the animal was moving in a straight line. Still it was not a kill shot and the animal was getting closer at alarming speed. Faendal released his second shot and it went right through the eye of the beast and into its brain. The momentum carried it forward tumbling and in the process snapping off the arrows.
Halas realized he had already lowered the bow and pulled out his daggers. He did not remember doing that but he knew that was part of his training. The beast weighed over 400 pounds and took nearly an hour for the two men to skin it and prepare the hide. “this should be kept as your prize and instead of selling it you may want to use it for something later.” They kept the teeth and eyes of the cat as they can be used for a variety of things.
Halas felt good about what happened but realized he would have not killed the beast at a distance. “Without you helping he would have reached me before I got off a third shot.” Faendal nodded as they began the descent down through the pass and into a much colder and icier place. “Sometimes your arrows only weaken your prey, not kill it.”
Halas thought about this as the horses twitched their ears in irritation of the winds now blowing up from the frozen valley below. They followed a narrow nearly invisible path and both horse and rider were focused on not slipping down the path. The wind was particularly strong and Halas felt the right side of his face getting numb.
And then it happened. So fast and so hard he did not even see it. A whitish grayish blur of fangs and snarling conviction swept him from the saddle onto the snow. The beast was like a wolf but white and was bigger. It was an ice wolf, a much larger cousin of the grey wolf. Faendal was down off of Rugot and Suriel hind kicked the animal sideways, likely saving Halas’s life. Still it was determined. Halas unsheathed his daggers as the animal lept forward and grabbed onto the tunic of his armor.
It backed up shaking him like a ragdoll and in the process of trying to stab the beast managed only to stab himself in the thigh. Off balance and now having self injured himself Halas was in a desperate situation. Faendal lept forward and drove both of his blades into the ribs of the beast and pulled backwards like an oarsman pulling an oar. That stopped the wolf as a huge gash opened on either side spilling its lifeforce onto the snow. Halas fell down too clutching his leg.
Faendal ran up to his apprentice and began to inspect the wound. Thank goodness he had just put extra padding in the legs a few days before. The wound would have been much worse. However it would need to be sutured. Halas sat on the snow stunned and in shock. His master bandaged the wound and then loaded him up on Rugot and sat behind him for support. Suriel, having kept the beast from grabbing more than just the tunic, followed loyally behind. Faendal knew that he had to get his young apprentice to a healer and out of the cold. He aimed Rugot toward Morthal and the group pushed through the blinding cold.
Azir L'Stros
"So much treasure, so little time..."
Great story. But I have to ask one thing: Halas went to Rorikstead and there was no mention of Erik?! I am hurt by this
Chirurgeon
Active Member
HAHA. Sorry mate Erik was busy working the fields!Great story. But I have to ask one thing: Halas went to Rorikstead and there was no mention of Erik?! I am hurt by this
Chirurgeon
Active Member
Chapter 17
Finally things began to change. He realized he was wet. His back felt squishy. He heard the sound of a crackling fire. He realized his clothes were off and that the wetness came from him sweating. He began to hear other things. He heard the soft creaking of boards. He heard conversation and recognized a voice.
Slowly the fog began to dissipate and he tried to get up only collapsing back into the pillow behind him. His mouth felt like he had been chewing on wool. His eyes hurt from being closed so long. His whole body ached from being in the bed. Halas wondered how long he had been there.
He drifted off to sleep again and woke up a little more alert now. He figured he had been given medicine and now it was wearing off. The boards creaked lightly and standing beside him was Faendal. “Welcome back Halas”, he said smilingly. Halas nodded and tried to speak. The dryness of his mouth prevented anything coherent from coming out.
Another man came in wearing a gorgeous white bear cloak and other pieces of armor that matched his white theme. He knew it had to be Markus, the ranger of the Pale.
Faendal and Markus propped up Halas so that he could drink some water. Slowly at first and then until he was relieved of his thirst.
“What happened to me?” Halas letting the question hang in the air. Faendal went on to explain that when they got to Morthal a few hours after arriving Halas got a fever and Markus and Faendal took him to the healer, Lami. She prepared several concoctions to help treat what she thought was the early phases of rockjoint, a debilitating disease that eventually renders the sufferer immobile.
However the treatments have the side effect of sweating and unconsciousness. They also kept him asleep on purpose to let the wound heal. “It looks like the wound has healed enough that you can start moving around, “ Faendal said confidently.
“Well how long was I out?” Halas looked at both rangers with anticipation. “This is the fourth day you have been here.”
Halas was stunned. How could he have been asleep for four days? His leg hurt but it wasn’t the agonizing pain he remembered after he stabbed himself. He frowned. By the divines he had stabbed himself with his own dagger. How was he supposed to be a ranger if he did just as much damage to himself as an enemy. He sighed but looked up to see Lami entering the room with some food. “Cheese and jazbay grapes for our brave apprentice?” She was quite nice and Halas smiled and eagerly ate.
As the day wore on Halas was able to get up and look at the wound. It had been sutured presumably by Faendal. “I will teach you how to do that one day, “ Faendal said as they both looked at the neat line of sutures running across a scabbed wound. It was a little red and puffy but overall looked good. “You will need to keep those sutures in there until the Ranger Council.”
Halas realized that he had lost precious time to work on getting his skills better. This certainly set him back. The summer solstice was only a few weeks away and the ever increasing daylight would peak and then begin the long descent toward a cold and mostly dark winter.
Faendal decided to have Halas work with Lami for the next two days. He had planned on taking Halas and doing survival training in the snow but it would have to wait. His skills as an alchemist were getting better but he was not even at apprentice level yet.
While Halas convalesced in Morthal, Markus and Faendal were going to go check out a fort that had been taken over by brigands. It was strictly investigation but it would take them the better part of a day. Halas would have been able to go but now he was stuck here. He sighed again and decided that he best recover and use that time to make different potions.
Lami was very motherly and encouraged him as he went. He made many potions and then became slightly stronger as his technique improved. He began to peel away the mysterious properties of many of the ingredients. One in particular would be useful. Swamp Fungal Pod turned out to have the ability to paralyze. That would be quite important indeed. Other ingredients he worked with included Giant lichen and deathbell. After two days and intense training he felt much better about his work.
When Faendal came back with Markus they said the bandits had moved on but that they might return. Halas wanted to ask more questions but they went and talked to Lami in private for awhile. When they returned Faendal was smiling. “Lami tells me you have made great progress with your alchemy.”
Halas stayed quiet, and Faendal looked at Lami briefly. Lami walked behind the counter of her shop and presented Halas with two dark leather vial pouches. Specifically designed to be against the small of your back it kept your poisons out of the way and yet accessable. “You have reached apprentice level in your Alchemy Halas. Congratulations!” She hugged Halas and kissed him on the cheek. Faendal and Markus cleared their throats and simply shook his hand.
“Tomorrow morning we head out to the Pale Ranger cabin, “ Faendal said softly but firmly. “What about the rest of the day?” Halas queried.
“Well I think its best we do a little hunting to make sure you don’t have to start over with using a bow.” Faendal winked as he said it and Markus smiled. Halas looked down at Markus’s waist and saw the pair of war axes. Halas then remembered that he wanted to learn how to use the war axe. He felt natural with a wood cutters axe and had actually played around with it as a weapon. Markus caught his eye and nodded. It was clear that Faendal had talked to him about it.
So the trio headed out to the swamps that surrounded the city of Morthal. It was dreary, foggy, and cold. Winter was not absent from this place and had a much different climate than anything Halas had experienced. “If you fall in the water you are in big trouble, “ Stated Markus as if he was reading Halas’s mind. “Is there a creature that lives in the waters?” Halas asked as he carefully surveyed the still dark waters in front of him. Markus shook his head. “This beast is called hypothermia. You would die very quickly without some warmth. It happened to two hunters last year around this time. “ Markus shook his head as he remembered the events. He later told of the desperate search for the men. They were found huddled together naked in the snow. “Hypothermia makes your judgement off and you do things you would never normally do. Add the fog which causes disorientation and you have yourself a deadly combination.”
Halas and the two rangers found a deer in which he killed. Halas had no trouble remembering what to do when using his bow. His shot was dead on although he felt like he still needed to practice more.
The three skinned the deer and hacked off haunches of meat to be taken back to Morthal. Some would be given to the innkeeper and the rest taken to the Pale Ranger Cabin to be dried for consumption when the deer were no longer around.
Markus looked up at the sky, “Its after noon we need to be moving toward the cabin.” Faendal nodded and the horses were saddled up and prepared for their journey. They had been cleaned and fed and Suriel seemed particularly happy to see Halas. His ears flicked eagerly back and forth in a show of happiness. He turned his head as his master mounted him and the horse could almost be seen smiling. Faendal, of course, recognized the horses mannerisms and could almost hear its thoughts.
They began the climb up to the road that would eventually lead to Windhelm, Dawnstar, and Winterhold. However they would be leaving the road near some ruins. Angry clouds were coming off the sea of ghosts and all three pulled their cloaks closer to save heat. The clouds produced torrents of snow in which all three endured. An hour into their journey Markus stopped and Faendal pulled up next to them. They both told Halas that they would be stopping by the Stone Hills. It was a mining camp off the main road and Markus wanted to ask some of the residents if they had seen anything unusual with bandit activity. Markus wanted to get an idea where the bandits had gone that he and Faendal had tried to find while Halas was recuperating.
They all welcomed the warmth of the main house but the workers lived in a small encampment in which they only had tents for protection. The mines were actually quite warm compared to the outside and the workers rather enjoyed staying in the mines on a day like today.
The owner of the mine was making some stew and insisted the rangers join them for lunch. The warm beef stew would be a welcome bit of warmth after what they had endured for the last hour. Markus knew the storm could get worse so after a brief conversation and having eaten stew and bread the three headed back out. The owner of the mine had not seen anything unusual on the road.
They found a turn that led up a narrow path and Halas was in the lead, his eyes searching for anything that might be unusual. Suddenly he saw a flash and in front of him an arctic fox took off. He prepared his arrow and Suriel slowed his pace to give Halas a better shot. The small fox was moving away but then suddenly stopped and came back in their direction. That was odd. It froze about 20 meters away not sure what to do and Halas let an arrow sail in its direction. It was a direct hit and the fox went tumbling backwards. Halas dismounted and Markus and Faendal went up ahead. Halas looked down at his kill. The pelt from this fox would fetch a good sum of gold once properly cleaned.
Markus and Faendal were moving slowly ahead of Halas. He could not see what was going on but both had their bows drawn. Suddenly a yelp was heard as the pair unleashed their arrows into an unseen prey. “Another wolf, Halas thought.”
It turned out it was an ice wolf. Halas got chills more from seeing the animal then from the cold. It brought back the memories of being attacked that day and he walked up to the beast to inspect it. Nearby was another dead arctic fox. Halas realized that the reason the second fox was running back at the rangers is that it saw the ice wolf.
Bigger than a normal wolf and with a tougher and thicker coat it was a very dangerous predator. The trio skinned the animals and then headed up the long slope back to the Ranger Cabin.
More howling and again the three realized there were wolves. The snow was coming down so fast and furious it reduced visibility. Suddenly out of the gloom a wolf was bounding straight for Faendal. He unsheathed his daggers in a fluid movement and took the wolf down almost effortlessly. Halas realized he had pulled out his daggers and Markus stood with his war axes.
Nearby they found a body of a wood elf. Markus walked up to the body. “By the divines its Orben. He was a merchant and hunter.” Markus looked at the body and realized he had been mauled by the wolves of which one had attacked Faendal. Markus frowned. “I will need to report this to the Jarl tomorrow.” The two rangers used the occasion to teach Halas how important it is to be prepared for anything. Clearly the woodelf had been unprepared for this. They would find a variety of ingredients in satchels. “He was most likely gathering ingredients for some reason or another. He must have been stalked by the wolves, “ Markus said solemnly. “It is either eat or be eaten I am afraid.” Halas thought about that for a moment but decided not to dwell on the issue too long.
Markus stayed behind to burn the body as the ground was too frozen to bury him. Halas and Faendal put the horses up in the stable and the two set about to making some dinner and drying out the venison from the deer earlier. The more choice cuts were going to be cooked up for dinner. Along with coffee and ale it would be a nice end to a rather interesting day. Halas went to the fire place and started a roaring fire that he warmed himself next to. “That reminds me young apprentice we need more firewood at the cabin.” Halas grunted and Faendal couldn’t help but smile. “Don’t be mad at me because you happen to be very good at chopping wood.” Halas continued warming his hands but rolled his eyes at the comments. He knew his master was just teasing. Halas still could not forget how perilously close everyone in Skyrim was to life and death. The sight of the dead wood elf was still on his mind as he realized he had chores to do before he could relax.
Halas went outside and cleaned the fox pelts and ice wolf pelt. Faendal stayed in and continued prepping dinner. He retrieved some horse blankets and covered all three horses. An hour had passed and Markus had returned. He told Halas that Orben was in a better place now and he had found the other two wolves. He opened his pack to reveal three skins that he carried over to the tanning rack. There was a good amount of hay and all three horses were laying down together. The wind was blocked by the wall and they seemed to be in good shape. Halas lastly went to the fire inside and boiled a large pot of water that he then poured into the horse trough. The water in it had been frozen but was now steaming something fierce. In a few minutes it would be cool enough to drink. The horses watched idly and knew to wait a few minutes for it to cool then they would drink heavily before it froze. Such was life in parts of Skyrim.
That night they ate well and after dinner Markus gave some lessons to Halas. Halas had grown in strength and size and did well with the war axes. There was something about the weight and feel that made it feel better than a dagger. The next day, Halas and Faendal would travel to Whiterun to continue his training. Markus said he would ask the Jarl of Morthal for permission to travel to Whiterun but saw no reason for her not to approve the trip.
The three ate well and talked about a variety of things. Markus began to talk about how important it is to have the knowledge to survive in such a harsh land. Faendal nodded and added his own insight. “You have to be prepared for anything and just so you know there is no greater enemy in Skyrim then the cold.” The two seemed to lecture Halas about the importance of being prepared for any eventuality. Faendal also added that in the next few weeks before the ranger council that there would be a lot of training happening very quickly. Markus asked Faendal if it would be ok to have Halas for a few days of snow school. “Snow school?” Halas asked curiously as he sipped some coffee. “Rangers nickname for survival school. We take you out in the wild and give you the basics and then tell you how to survive. Then we leave you and you have to get to a certain location on foot within a certain period of time.” Halas thought about that for a few minutes and realized he had never really done anything alone. He supposed that as time passed he would be given more responsibility. But right now he didn’t feel he was up for it.
It was getting late and the three bedded down for the night. Halas knew his job was to keep the fire going and he went out and got enough wood so that he would not have to go outside to get firewood. This time of night with a storm outside it would be unnecessary torture. He inspected the wound that Faendal had sutured and ran his finger up and down the two inch gash. He realized how he would have been killed had it not been for Faendal. He laid his head back and wished he wasn’t such a burden all the time.
Chirurgeon
Active Member
Thank you all for the likes. Keeps me going haha
Chirurgeon
Active Member
Chapter 18
By the midmorning they had reached Whiterun and Markus began to teach Halas basic moves with the war axe. It was not much different than with daggers. However the moves had to be slower and more fluid. “You cannot change direction with an axe once you commit it,” he remembered Markus telling him. Halas was a quick learner and by the late morning had a sparring match with Farkas that went much better than the first time he faced the companion with the massive sword. Halas felt like he could really put his weight behind the weapons and it felt like a delicate blend between the finesse of a dagger and the brute force of a mace. It was no wonder so many Nords chose the axe as the weapon of choice. The cutting power of a sword mixed with the brute weight of a mace.
After a promising and fruitful morning training with the war axes Markus felt that Halas would make a good candidate to carry them around as his weapon of choice. “The boy is just not happy with daggers, “ he whispered to Faendal. Faendal shrugged and never understood why you would not choose a dagger.
The trio headed out to see Alvor and when he arrived in Riverwood the blacksmith’s face lit up. They ate lunch and talked and soon Alvor had Halas making axes instead of daggers. Alvor told Halas “ a warrior should spend time learning all about how to make the weapon he wields.” He smiled as he said this placing an ingot in the coals until it was glowing hot. Halas looked down at the steel ingots. He really wanted to use steel instead of iron. Iron had to be oiled so much more or it would rust. Alvor caught the glance, “Soon lad soon. You are getting quite good at working with iron. However steel is not as forgiving and requires much more patience. Folding metal is much more difficult than simply beating it into shape.” Halas sighed and went out to shovel some ore into the smelter.
Earlier Faendal had taken Halas’s hood and one of the snow fox pelts and put a white rim around the opening of the hood. He presented it to Halas who smiled. “Its only appropriate you remember your first snow fox kill.”
Sporting his new hood Halas was quite happy with the days work. He had learned to handle a war axe a bit better and Alvor had shown him the basics of crafting them. He still had a ways to go before he would be good enough to graduate to steel but he was making good progress.
Faendal and Markus then saw that Halas was doing quite well. Faendal watched with a smile on his face as he confidently hammered away on the beginnings of a war axe. Markus risked a sideways glance at Faendal and realized the bond between him and his apprentice was quite strong. Markus frowned inwardly. He knew the next few days would be hard on Faendal and on his apprentice.
Earlier the pair had talked about where to go to have Halas do his survival training. Faendal was somewhat protective of his apprentice and Markus had to convince Faendal that Halas needed a real challenge. It was apparent that Faendal was trying to balance taking care of Halas after his parent’s death and being objective as his master. Markus knew that he was struggling with it but offered that Halas would be better later on and that Faendal had to trust in Halas’s training to get him through survival school.
Faendal and Markus walked up to Alvor and Halas. Alvor nodded at the two rangers and rubbed his filthy hands on his equally filthy apron. “Do you mind if we steal away your apprentice Alvor?” Markus smiled as he realized it was a jab to pretty much everyone present. “You better take the lad away before he takes my job!” Alvor rubbed his big rough hands on Halas’s head and walked over to the smelter to work on some more ingots that he needed for the next day.
“It’s time we gave you the tools to survive in the wilds of Skyrim, “ Stated Faendal in an almost solemn tone. He reached into a bag and produced sheets of leather. Markus had Halas pullout a bunch of wolf pelts he had brought along. “Your first step to surviving is shelter.” Halas watched as the two rangers placed the materials on the workbench and slid it out. Taking out some heavy tailoring string, like what Halas had used to put together his armor, they set it down on top of the leather and hides.
Markus walked up to the hides. He put his hands on them and looked at Halas. “In the northern parts of Skyrim you need a hide tent. It insulates the best and the snow won’t melt onto it.” He then walked over to the leather that had been laid out. “Places where it rains instead of snows you need leather. The hide tent will get wet and leak eventually. But the leather can be conditioned to be water tight. The tradeoff is that the leather tent is not good at dealing with extreme cold.” Faendal looked at Halas and nodded. “Where you are going you will only need the hide tent. But you will make the leather tent and carry it with you. Suriel can hold some of your gear so that you can lighten your load a bit.” Faendal smiled slightly and then the three began to work on assembling the tents. By late afternoon they had completed and then began the journey back to the Cabin in Whiterun.
Halas noted that Markus was traveling with them. “Are you coming with us Markus?” Markus smilled and nodded. “Oh yes someone has to keep an eye on Faendal when you are not around.” Faendal grimaced a bit and told the two that he was going to scout ahead and let them talk about him out of earshot.
While they took the thirty minutes or so to reach the cabin Halas learned that Markus’s parents were in the great war some 15-20 years before and that they served with distinction in the legion. Markus explained that his parents wanted him to join the legion but was instead recruited into the ranger’s by none other than Faendal. “Turns out my ability to sneak around and survive harsh conditions suited me better for duties as a ranger than as a soldier, “he smiled slightly as he remembers that day quite fondly. His smile faded a bit as he explained the ranger corp had been nearly destroyed one way or the other during the war and right after by a series of events. Markus tread carefully as he did not wish to go into the details of Halas’s parents.
At the cabin Halas packed his backpack carefully and fitted the outside with his bedroll, a torch, his woodaxe, and cooking pot. Faendal also gave him an amulet of Kynareth to wear. He packed dried rations that he could add water to make delicious stews. Dried goat meat, beef, salmon, and venison along with desiccated vegetables would be all he needed.
Before bed the two rangers gave Halas a compass. It was a Dwemer creation but in essence it used the rocks in the ground to point in the same direction no matter what direction the user was facing. It helped keep bearings in unfamiliar locations and would help navigate if you got caught in a snow storm. Finally a leather map was added to his pack that he could use to chart his journey. On it were major landmarks that could be used to aim for when using a compass or just to walk toward so that you had a relative idea where you were. Halas was preparing for a potentially tough journey and needed the best tools at his disposal.
“We will practice with the map and the compass tomorrow on our way to your first day camp and by that time you should be skilled enough to use it for charting your route to where we will be waiting for you.” Halas looked at all the gear that was around him and felt a moment of fear and uncertainty grip him. But then he realized that over the last few months, Faendal and others like Jenessa and Markus had given him the tools to be successful. He told himself that he was going to be ok.
The next morning the three set out for an area southeast of Dawnstar, in a small valley and quite isolated. It would take most of the day to get there. As they traveled Markus and Faendal gave Halas the best advice for his solo journey. The compass would help him track landmarks and his leather map should help him find the best route forward. Of course knowing where you were in real time is always a challenge and even the best trackers can get lost.
Faendal and Markus told Halas that he should think of the best way but the only rule is that he had to stay off the main roads. “Pretend that you are tracking someone that wants to avoid detection. It is unlikely that they would use the main road. Bandits and brigands tend to go cross country, “ Markus told Halas.
Halas recalled a time when Faendal had said that if you didn’t want to be tracked you could use a cobbled road as footprints would not show up and if there were any they would be mixed in with others. He decided not to bring it up but realized that both could be right given the right situation.
They used the pass north of the cabin and passed by the spot where the ice wolf had ambushed Halas. Halas was much more alert now as his close encounter with the ice wolf was a constant reminder of the danger of the land. The motivation to stay alive was enough to keep him sharp.
They turned onto the road that they had taken to the pale ranger cabin and continued past it. “Looks like you are in uncharted territory Halas, “ Faendal said. They stopped to have lunch and make a fire to warm themselves. Faendal told Halas he needed to make sure that he had enough wood to get a fire going. “If you wait till you get cold to look for wood for a fire you might die with a woodaxe in your hand.” Halas was cold and by the wind and sudden chill believed his master. Halas may be a Nord however he had lived in the warm climate of Riften his whole life. They ate heartily and began to move on after a bit respite and having rewarmed their bodies.
They continued to track northeast on the road and when they came to a north south intersection the two rangers guided the apprentice off the road and toward a cut between two small mountains. Faendal looked toward the north and knew that not far up the road was Dawnstar.
As the trio ascended the hill some movement ahead caught the eye of all three. Dismounting Halas saw three wolves. Faendal shot an arrow at their direction and they became alert to the presence of the rangers. “Why did you do that, “ asked Halas with a puzzled look on his face. “Put down the bow and pull out your axes, “ Faendal said with a tone of authority. Halas did. Markus took out the lead wolf but the other two descended onto Halas.
The animals were moving fast and Halas sidestepped and threw off the wolves initiative. Halas then took his own initiative and crushed the skull of the second wolf .
The third wolf charged in and Halas delivered a heavy blow to its head as well. The weight and cutting power of the war axe causing a grizzly wound on the side of the wolves head.
It lay in the snow bleeding to death, trying to get up and ultimately failing. The poison on the axe finished the job that the large gash had started. The snow was crimson close to the animals and faded to a pink as the blood was less concentrated away from the beasts. Halas and the two rangers took to skinning the animals and salted the skins. Halas had become quite proficient at skinning animals and took the skins and rolled them up into his pack. Later when he had time he would stretch them on a tanning rack and remove the excess fat and treat them again.
Inside Halas felt a great sense of confidence. The war axes that he wielded were quite powerful and he felt much better about using them compared to the daggers he had been trained with. Markus promised to show Halas more advance moves later.
Faendal noticed the body language of his apprentice and also noticed the confidence. He smiled briefly but then realized that confidence would be vital to getting his apprentice through the next few days. Faendal looked up ahead through a few trees. On the other side would be a small protected indention on the terrain. It was there that Halas would set up his first camp and spend the first night alone with out his master.
Although he wouldn’t be alone Faendal knew. Suriel would be there for the young man and would die protecting him if he had too. The horse was loyal and had already saved Halas once. As Halas was busy skinning the last of the wolves he walked up to Suriel and mentally bonded with the animal long enough to make sure that he would do everything to bring Halas to the end of his journey safely. The horse nickered and kicked the ground a bit to visibly tell Faendal that he would let no harm come to Halas. Faendal smiled and walked away from the horse. “Is everything alright?” asked Markus curiously. “Everything is fine, “ replied Faendal.
Azir L'Stros
"So much treasure, so little time..."
"5 different users must be given reputation before hitting the same person again."
Chirurgeon
Active Member
haha its ok friend. You have already been so generous! I am glad you are enjoying it!! Love the vader gif
Azir L'Stros
"So much treasure, so little time..."
If there was a rating that said, "After reading this, the English Language needs to redefine the meaning of awesome," I'd spam that rating. Unfortunately, I have to stick with "Winner".
The tears are flowing down my cheeks.
The tears are flowing down my cheeks.
Chirurgeon
Active Member
Well thank you very much. Can I ask what you liked about it?
Azir L'Stros
"So much treasure, so little time..."
Lots. First of all, I have always loved the Ranger's Apprentice series. I've read it many, many times. Your fanfic is great, too. I love the pictures, and I feel that Halas has developed a lot in many ways since the beginning of the story. I feel very immersed in the story every time I read a chapter. And I'll be honest, it's one of the best fanfics I've ever read.
Chirurgeon
Active Member
Chapter 19
When he returned he found himself talking to Suriel like he was a friend. After all on this desolate white landscape he was the only human around. Halas realized his stomach was rumbling and ate some dried venison and cheese to satiate himself till dinner. Suriel looked at his master and shook his head and pawed the ground. He then looked back at the saddlebags on the ground and then back at his master. “If I didn’t know any better I would say you are hungry boy.” The horse seemed to respond by whipping his ears back and forth. “Alright I guess it is rude for me to eat in front of you and not offer you something. “
Halas went to the bag and pulled out a few sacks of oats and put it in a leather bag that Suriel’s muzzle could fit into. The horse eagerly put his nose in the bag and the muffled sound of his eating was suddenly evident. The bag would expand and contract as Suriel ate the oats.
Halas had set up his cooking pot filled with snow next to the fire and it had melted enough to where the horse drank from it. Halas would wash the pot out and in the morning would cook up some venison. He hoped to bag one of the elk or deer that were wondering around in the snow.
The sun began to set and Halas knew that he had a big day ahead. “Keep the fire going boy, “ he joked with Suriel. The heat from the fire was warming not only in heat but provided a comfort in the growing gloom. With the dropping of the sun came the dropping of the temperature. Halas sat on his bedroll and took off his shoes and set them aside, his feet taking in the warmth of the fire. Halas realized that if your feet are warm then the rest of your body seems to follow suit. He laid out his weapons next to his bed as Markus and Faendal had showed him and sat down.
He made some coffee and enjoyed the brew and decided it was not a good idea to have any ale. He wanted to be alert in case of any trouble. In the hour before he fell asleep he had plenty of time to think of his mentor and the other ranger Markus. Halas retrieved the map from his bag and looked again at what he wanted to do.
He decided the easiest route would be the coast. After all Markus and Faendal would be waiting for him at the giant pillar of rock that held up the Blue Palace of Solitude. Getting there would require some long tracking and pivoting through the archipelago that made up the region around Morthal. He pulled out the compass and it held steady pointing toward the sea of ghosts. He wasn’t sure how it worked and that made Halas a bit suspicious of the Dwemer creation. But he also knew that if a furious storm came in it could keep him going in the same direction and not get turned around.
He took a deep breath as he looked at the map and stored it away in one of his pouches. He checked his poisons and potions on the vial belt that Lami had given him. He took some time to rub some troll fat onto his boots and other armor pieces that looked like it needed a fresh sheen of oil. By now it was dark and he went to get some more wood and set about for a few hours of sleep.
Everytime Suriel moved or a strange sound carried onto the wind, Halas was alert and ready for danger. However he knew that Suriel would alert him long before he heard anything. Suriel did whinny one time in the dead of night and Halas sat upright clinging to his axes. He strained into the night to see and it was then that he realized the fire had died down to coals. He threw more wood on the fire and got it going again before going back to the tent. “I guess you were getting cold and wanted to let me know?” He asked the horse through the hide walls of the tent. Getting no response Halas laid down and went back to sleep.
He woke up excited to face the day but also realized he was exhausted. He would have to make the best of it. Halas got a good fire going and fed Suriel again, this time stopping to give him a green apple. Suriel loved the fruit and Halas smiled. Putting on his gear Halas walked down to a long slope that led to the sea and took a look.
The early morning sun was glittering on the waves and the clouds looked pretty benign. “It should be a good day for traveling, “ Halas thought to himself. He found a deer and stalked the animal which seemed oblivious at least till the poisoned arrow sunk deep into its body. Halas began to skin the animal and realized, in a sort of morbid way, that the animal was quite warm and his hands were like being next to the fire. As he cut open the animals belly a rush of steam came out and lifted into the air. Many hunters believed this cloud was the animal’s spirit floating away and that on a cold night you could see it. Halas wasn’t sure of that but he knew he wanted to have fresh venison for the rest of his trip.
After skinning the deer and taking the best cuts of meat he prepared some of the meat into steaks that he cooked and then decided against tanning the hides. “I can do that tonight right boy?” He asked Suriel knowing he wouldn’t get an answer.
Over the next hour Halas broke down the camp. He packed his cooking pot and tent and finally extinguished the fire. He organized his bag, restrung his bow, and placed everything where it was supposed to go either on Suriel or in his own backpack.
Looking around and feeling satisfied he hopped onto the horse and gently encouraged his companion forward. Soon they were on the plains outside of Dawnstar and up ahead the sea was visible. The snow did not cling to the ground here and a more muddy and sandy feel took over. Halas decided to dismount and walk. He could always ride later if he wanted. He found some curious grass pods growing on the beach and took some to see what he could make with them.
Up ahead was movement and Suriel began to tense up. Halas crept closer for a closer look and realized there were three wolves milling about on the beach. One of them was eating the remains of a crab. Halas thought about his options. He could go around but he would have to find a way past some cliffs to do so. He had no idea what was on the other side or how long it would take to get back to the beach again. He knew he only had two days to reach his final destination and he could not afford delays. He also didn’t want to blunder into a situation that might get himself killed. He decided to take out the nearest wolf and decided that it would take a while for the other two to know what happened. He figured the one wolf with its head buried in the crab shell would be the slowest to respond.
Lining up his shot like he had done everytime he gained the absolute focus he would need. He pictured the fluid motion of the shot and then knew he had to reach back in a seamless motion and pull out another arrow. He had three arrows that were poisoned. He judged that based on the wolves speed and his distance it was going to be hard to get off all three shots before the last wolf would be on top of him.
He let loose the first arrow and it found its mark with ease. The second wolf was bounding straight toward him. This was easy. The second arrow found its mark and the beast tumbled forward with its momentum. The third shot was going to be close but the animal was less than ten meters away. The moment his shot was away the wolf dodged left. He had never seen a wolf dodge. He didn’t have time to think. He pulled a fourth arrow and as he drew back the string the beast leaped into the air. The shot was not completely drawn back so it went off at half speed. The animal landed on top of Halas and he felt the fletchings up against his stomach and the weight of the wolf made the arrow sink into its body before Halas rolled the animal out of the way.
It had terrible breath but it was dead.
Suriel came trotting up and began to paw the body of the wolf. “Thanks boy, “ was all that Halas could manage as he caught his breath.
Halas was bruised where the end of the arrow had pressed against his stomach but he was able to pull out the deadly part of the arrow from the wolf’s body.
He found the other arrows and took over an hour getting the skins off the animals and when he was done found a small boat that had been flipped over. He found a few mudcrabs and smashed them quickly. Inside he found some interesting items including a curved sword. It might be from Hammerfell based on the shape. Regardless it was in bad shape from the salt and he left it behind. He moved on and passed by a massive boat covered in more mudcrabs. This coast was cold and desolate. He pulled his cloak around him as he and Suriel plopped along at a steady pace.
He heard strange noises ahead and jumped off of Suriel. Suriel nickered and shook his head. “I know boy I can hear it too.” On a small island were several horkers. Markus and Faendal had told of the the animals and that if they got close to you they could impale you with their tusks. Their skin is thick and blubbery and can resist attacks quite well.
Halas immediately thought of how much the tusks went for at the various shops around Skyrim. It prompted him to go after one of the beasts. He picked one that was close and poisoned one of his arrows. The horker was transformed into a pincushion as Halas punched four arrows into its body. It ungracefully made its way towards him and it didn’t go down until the fifth arrow.
“Tough bastards these are,” exclaimed Halas as he ripped out the arrows. Getting the tusks was difficult as he literally spent considerable time hacking away at the skull to break free the precious tusks. He took some of the meat but it was quite fatty and greasy. “Not sure if I like this meat boy, “ he told Suriel as he cut ribbons of the meat from the animals side. He figured if he cooked it down for a while the fat would come out and he could get rid of some of it.
Satisfied Halas moved on and looked up at the sky. It was midafternoon and he began to look for a campsite. On the horizon he could see the great city of Solitude thrusting upward into the sky. The base of the pillar shrouded in mist. Halas frowned a bit but realized he had made good distance. The terrain was changing and he realized he was near the mouth of the Karth river. The swamp and estuary around Morthal ended about where he was now.
He found a good spot for a campsite on a promontory of land that jutted out into the sea of ghosts. A large rock would shelter him from the winds and so far the weather had held out.
He got off of Suriel and began to set up camp. His small tent was set perpendicular to the wind so that it wouldn’t blow through the shelter. He found plenty of dead branches and driftwood to make a fire and used some sticks to make a spit to hold his cooking pot. Having fed Suriel and himself he set about to cooking down some of the horker meat to get rid of some of the fat. It might be decent if he could get rid of all that fat.
He had seen a ruin up a small hill away from the beach and investigated it, on the way finding some rare quicksilver ore. He decided not to investigate the ruin or go inside as it was abandoned on the outside and whatever was inside wasn’t likely to come out. Besides it was far enough away from camp and his fire would be hid behind a rock.
He then got back to camp and retrieved his mortar and pestle. He had some more time before he was to go to bed, so he began to make potions. He made a few potions of paralysis from swamp fungal pod and imp stool. It was a clear liquid but he knew it could be valuable if faced with a situation.
Checking on the horker meat Halas realized it was much more firm now and the whole top of the cooking pot was a thick viscous layer of fat. He went to the beach and got rid of the fat and the meat was actually quite tasty. He decided to make it his dinner. He then put some venison into the pot and cooked up some of the steaks he had cut off the deer. Settling into the camp for the night he finished some bread from his pack and drank some coffee. “I am pooped Suriel!” he told the horse in a moment of realization. Having gotten little good sleep the night before he decided to turn early. He wanted to make sure he could squeeze all the sleep he could from the night.
Halas was not used to the sounds of the coast. The waves had a rhythm but inbetween he could hear odd noises carried on the wind. He shuddered a bit as he knew many had lost their lives in the foggy and unpredictable sea. There was a reason it was called the Sea of Ghosts. It was at this point as Halas laid there that he thought maybe it was the sound of ghosts being carried on the wind. Regardless he was exhausted and decided he would just have to let sleep take him. In the morning he would have to navigate the swamps next to the Karth river. He would need to be focused and rested to finish the journey he had started.
Meanwhile about a kilometer from where he was a necromancer had ambushed some bandits and turned them into his minions. The man smiled at his success and set up his own camp where the bandits had been. It was a good spot and he could see in the distance the great pillar of solitude and the archipelago of the Morthal swamps spreadout before him. His minions were not smart but they could sense if anyone was coming. However the necromancer assumed that with the bandits dead and now his minions he could safely assume that no one else would be around. There was some sort of tomb here and in the morning he would take his minions below and hopefully set up his laboratory to further his skills in the necromantic arts. For now he realized that if anyone had been around these bandits would have run them off.
Chirurgeon
Active Member
As soon as I get my Nook fixed I plan on continuing to read the series. I believe I am on book seven. Thank you so much for the compliment I really don't know what to say. I guess the best thing is just to make sure to keep cranking out updates. lol. However I am humbled by what you have said. Enjoy the update
Azir L'Stros
"So much treasure, so little time..."
I thought I was the only one with a Nook...
Anyways, looking forward to the next chapter!
Chirurgeon
Active Member
Chapter 20
Halas walked a short distance to melt some snow for Suriel and at the same time set about to stirring the fire up for a breakfast. It was still early morning and if all went well he wouldn’t take long to get to the pillar of Solitude. He wasn’t sure if that was the real name but its what he has been calling it the last few days. A light mist covered the estuary and he could make out the island he was supposed to go to but not any details. He wondered if Faendal and Markus were already there.
***
“This looks like a good place to set up, “ Markus eyed the ground to the north of the pillar. The land was flat and unobstructed so that it would be difficult for anyone to sneak up on them. Faendal looked up the pillar to the dizzying height where the blue palace rested at the top of the giant rock column. He frowned and looked back down at the ground. “Well I would agree unless someone throws a rock or some garbage out a window from way up there, “ Faendal pointed grimly at the top of the rock.
Markus looked around and saw a few broken vases and such and shook his head. “That would be a terrible thing to be killed by a falling vase.”
“Lets move the camp a bit closer to the beach out of range of falling objects from Solitude.” Markus laughed and agreed. Markus set about making camp and realized that Faendal was staring through the mist at the various islands and peninsulas that made up the archipelago of the mouth of the Karth river.
“Don’t worry Faendal he is doing just fine, “ Markus smiled. Faendal was silent and rubbed his chin. Markus set about putting up the leather tent for himself and started a small fire. Faendal walked back and set some water down to prepare to heat up some coffee. “you read my mind, “ Markus commented as Faendal poured the water in. Faendal smiled, “I brought the bronze oakleaf.” Markus looked up in surprise. “Is he ready for that?” Markus asked with a serious look on his face. Faendal slowly nodded his head and steadied the pot between two rocks closest to the flames. “If he gets here today and has accomplished something great then I think he deserves it.”
Markus looked into the flames as he idly held his empty tankard, waiting for coffee. “I thought that was a matter for the ranger council to determine.” Markus looked at Faendal. “Well the ranger council simply approves the continuation of an apprenticeship. The ranger picks the apprentice.”
Markus walked around to his horse and pulled out some coffee beans and a small iron grinder. He carefully poured the expensive Khajiit import into the grinder and methodically ground the beans into course grains. When he was done he put the grounds into a silver ball with tiny holes. Small enough for water but not enough for the grains to slip through. He placed it in the steaming water and now they just had to wait a few minutes for the liquid to get dark.
“Still if they don’t approve him and then you have to take it away its going to be rough on him, “ Markus said as he dipped the silver ball in and out of the steaming liquid. “I had thought of that but I want him to remember the day of his first survival trial.”
“I don’t recall you doing that with me or with Janessa for that matter, “ Markus said as he pulled the silver ball out and began to pour a cup of coffee for himself. Faendal was quiet. The crackling of the fire and and the sound of a distant loon was the only real noise. He took a breath and finally spoke. “I know but there is something different about Halas.”
Markus put some honey in his coffee and then took a sip before speaking again, “Is he different or are you treating him differently?”
Faendal realized where he was going and did not want the conversation to go further but felt a need to continue, “By the divines it’s the least I can do after what happened to his parents!” Faendal recalled that dark day and closed his eyes and tried to block it out.
Markus retorted quietly and logically, “I know it seems like a good idea but if you give someone confidence before they have the skills to carry that confidence you are only setting them up for failure.” Markus and Faendal both knew that failure as a ranger usually meant death or something close to it. Especially if you are in hostile territory.
“You may be right but it’s a risk I am willing to take. He will be ready for his trial at the ranger council and getting the bronze leaf will give him the confidence he needs to get through the trial, “ Faendal said in a defending tone as if to justify his decision.
“Ultimately he is your apprentice and you know him better than anyone. I just wanted to make sure that who he was wasn’t distorting your view that’s all.”
The two sat in silence for a while. Drinking coffee and staring at fires was a routine for rangers on patrol. After a few minutes Faendal spoke again. “I know that you want the best for Halas but I just feel that the time is right for this to happen. If I regret it later so be it. Besides he needs an upgrade on those damn iron arrows he has been hauling around for the last few months.”
The two men laughed and set about to getting comfortable while they awaited the arrival of Faendal’s apprentice.
***
Suriel plodded forward and more grass started to cover the sand and a different sort of tree started to take over the area. The light mist was persistent but not too bad.
A little way into the journey Suriel stopped. He simply refused to move forward. As a ranger’s horse he was trained to do this when he sensed danger. So far Suriel had never been wrong. Halas hopped down off his horse and moved forward to investigate.
Hidden by the grass mostly he peered ahead and saw a bizarre sight. A man in robes was running around with with two other men that were wearing some sort of light armor. However the man in the robe seemed to be making them move where ever he wanted. It was as if he had some sort of control over them. Halas risked moving a little bit closer to get a closer look. Suriel had been behind the small hill out of sight and now Halas moved down the embankment to get a better look at what was going on. He debated going around but it looked like the land was too steep. He was gonna have to figure out how to get past the mage and his strange companions.
In his ignorance the wind was blowing off the sea toward the mage and his minions. Halas realized he had made a terrible error when he decided to investigate. Scent is carried downwind and the minions, most likely zombies of a necromancer stopped and sniffed the air. With intelligence gone many zombies will revert to basic senses and this was the case here. Halas already had an arrow drawn while he was crouched in the grass.
He had to pick a target. The minion on the left carried a huge sword while the one on running toward him on the right carried a one handed mace without a shield. He would not have time for three shots and maybe not even two. The mage was in the middle and Halas made the decision to take out the mage.
This is where an invisible switch occurs like a spark turning to flame a ranger’s brain becomes cold and calculating in the midst of battle. Halas had fought enough wolves and even a troll to know that he had the advantage here. The mage sensing his doom raised his hand and a frost jet plumed outward toward Halas. The first few specs of cold began to bounce off his armor when he released his shot. He shot it just inside the middle of the jet of cold and in a moment a grunt was heard and the frost dissipated from the air.
Simultaenously the two bandits keeled over like puppets with their strings cut. Halas breathed and felt absolutely nothing. It was strange. He had just killed a man. A man that could have a family somewhere. The dead mage in the grass had a whole life story and Halas had ended it in a brilliant flash of an arrow sailing through the crisp morning air. His training had separated him from his quarry and now he simply removed the robe and the armors of the bandits.
He searched the people for anything of use and took it back to Suriel. Halas brushed the muzzle of the horse and whispered “lets go boy.”
Suriel tossed his head in response and Halas got on the horse and continued his journey toward his master.
The separation he had at the fight had disappeared as he journeyed alone. Halas began to see the mage’s face constantly now as his horse plodded through the dismal swamp. He distracted himself from it by gathering some ingredients and studying the leather map. He crossed over a bridge to get to the other side where the pillar of Solitude awaited him. After a few hours of riding after his first kill of a human he felt relieved to see the smoke from the fire of the camp.
He smiled for the first time as he saw Markus and Faendal going about the camp. Halas waved as he got closer and jumped down from the horse. Instantly Faendal and Markus knew something was going on. “Well I would have expected a little more enthusiasm from my apprentice to see us again. Do we really look that haggered?” Faendal chuckled and Markus smiled. Halas shook his head and forced a smile.
“Well out with it Halas what is troubling you, “ asked Faendal now concerned. Halas went to his bag on Suriel and pulled out the necromancer’s robe emblazoned with a giant skull on the front and tossed it on the ground.
Markus leaned down to inspect the garment. “By the divines where did you find a necromancer’s robe?”
Faendal already knew and looked at his apprentice. “He found it on the dead body of the necromancer he had killed.”
Markus stood up and nodded slowly. “Aye, I just realized that too.”
Halas suddenly felt very strange and all the pent up emotions came out. He crossed his arms and turned away and started sobbing uncontrollably. He felt ridiculous but it was a feeling that hijacked his whole body and he could not ward it off. Faendal grabbed his apprentice and Halas buried his face into his masters wolf cloak. He sobbed for a full minute before stopping enough to gain composure.
Faendal finally spoke as he released his apprentice. “This is a normal feeling to feel so strongly. It is not a sign of weakness, but rather makes you human. You have empathy Halas and it one of the most important traits of a ranger.”
Halas still had a knot in his throat from his crying fit and simply nodded and wiped away tears from his soft young face. Faendal looked at him and realized he was still a boy. He had killed a man long before many had. It was a tough burden to carry but all rangers were forced to do it.
“I had to do it he was going to kill me. He was coming at me with magic and had two bandits under his control.” Faendal and Markus exchanged glances. They both knew it was unusual for a necromancer to control two souls simultaneously. “you don’t have to justify what you did Halas,” Faendal said reassuringly. However deep down Faendal knew that every death you are responsible for you have to wrestle with it to some extent.
Markus decided to change the subject to get everyone a bit distracted. “You must be hungry and tired. Come over to the fire and show me on the map where you encountered this necromancer. Many times they work in small groups and I want to know so that I can report it to the Jarl.”
It was a good thing for Halas and it stopped him from thinking about everything that happened. “I think I need a drink,” Halas said as he looked at the fire. The other two rangers nodded and Markus tossed Halas an ale that had been in a nearby snowbank chilling. “Don’t worry you wont need to take watch tonight. “ Markus then excused himself and crawled into his tent to get some sleep for his watch tonight.
“Come here apprentice there are some things I want to show you.” Faendal walked over to Rugot and began to open a few of the bags. Halas took a swig from his ale and nearly dropped it when he saw what Faendal pulled out.
He presented him with a small necklace with a bronze oakleaf as the pendent. He clipped it onto Halas’s neck and looked at him and held out his right hand and Halas shook it firmly. He looked at Faendal unable to contain his smile and Faendal welcomed him into the ranger corp with a short dedication:
“By the power bestowed to me by the emperor and the ranger council I hereby pronounce that Halas Sundvor is an apprentice ranger with all the rights and duties expected of a person with such stature”
Halas let his thumb and forefinger run over the leaf and was in awe. He might have cried had he not nearly exhausted himself not too long ago. Faendal also presented him with a quiver that had the bronze oakleaf intricately carved into the metal at the top. With it came steel arrows that packed a greater punch than the iron arrows he was carrying around.
“You still have some work to do before you get steel axes but hopefully Markus can get you trained on those before the ranger council, “ Faendal added grudgingly but then managed a shrug and smile.
Halas could not explain the highs and lows he had experienced in the last hour. It was a lot and with his new equipment he went over to the cooking pot and began to go on and on about his adventures as his master listened attentively and nodded his head. Faendal nodded and looked at his apprentice with almost jealously. Halas was resilient and listening to Halas talk about how he beat three wolves and was excited about the curved sword he found under a boat, and the strange grass pods that he had found, Faendal knew that his apprentice was going to be fine.
As for Halas he felt much better but would still see flashes of the mage’s face. Halas stayed by the fire until he became very tired and looked up at the brilliant sky that featured a countless number of twinkling lights. He wondered how far away the were and pretended to catch one between his thumb and index finger. He smiled and crawled into his tent completely exhausted.
Chirurgeon
Active Member
Chapter 21
Markus was cooking up some of his famous mudcrab soup for breakfast. That morning he and Faendal had wondered a short distance down to the water to kill a few and collect both their chitin and their meat. Markus looked at Halas and chuckled. “The real reason rangers wear hoods: to hide bedhead, ” Halas reached up and felt the sideways hair on his head and groaned a bit as he put his hood on. Markus laughed for a few more seconds and then added some spices from morrowind to the soup. “Its all in the spice young Halas, “ he said with a seemingly great wisdom.
Halas stretched and walked over to Suriel who was anxious to see his friend. He petted Suriel and got out a brush and began to brush down his companion. All the while he talked to him gently and reassuringly. He held the brush still for a moment and his mind went back the morning before. The images flashed through his mind again. He then shook his head and went back to work. Suriel seemed to sense the stress and looked back at Halas. He seemed to reassure the apprentice even though he did not speak.
He set out food for Suriel and the familiar sound of Suriel’s tongue rubbing against the leather of the bag as he swept the food into his mouth made Halas smile. Halas realized he needed some normal right now.
After breakfast the two rangers and one apprentice went to the water to do some hunting. There were two horkers sitting on the edge of the water seeming to bask in the early morning light. Halas notched an arrow and snuck up closer to the two great beasts. When he was about 30 meters away he let loose an arrow that dug into the side of the beast. Faendal and Markus had their bows drawn and the two Horkers now waddled their way toward the trio. Both Faendal’s and Markus’s arrows passed through the nose of the beast and into the brain causing them to slump over instantly.
Halas was amazed. What took him five arrow shots took but one from the accomplished rangers. Clearly he had a long way to go.
“You gotta punch the arrow through the snout and into the brain, “ Faendal said while punching his fist into his other open hand. Markus simply nodded and then showed Halas the proper way to remove a horker tusk. The trick he would later recall was to push the tusk into the head of the horker and rock it back and forth and then pull it out.
Halas had his go at it but took a bit longer then Markus. He nearly impaled himself when some of the juice from the brain came out and ran down the shaft of the tusk and made it very slippery. He had lost his grip and fell onto the horker giving it a sort of a hug to keep himself from falling into the mud. “I had no idea you were so attached to them!” teased Markus.
Halas and the other two rangers simply laughed as they removed the tusks and meat from both animals.
They moved up a hillside near the camp and came upon three frostbite spiders. Markus took one down at nearly point blank range with his bow and then as the second one came at him, returned his bow to his back and unsheathed his twin skyforge war axes. He cut into the second one with a fluid and deadly motion that created great deep gashes in the head of the spider causing it to die instantly.
Halas shook his head at the calm and speed of the ranger. A creature that could stalk and kill a man easily and whom was feared throughout Skyrim was no match for Markus and his axes. He removed the poison glands, a rather messy affair, and gave them to Halas. “I will show you what we can do with these,” he smiled as he tossed the last gland jiggling with fluid in it. Halas remembered that Faendal had told him something about using frostbite venom on leather. I guess he would finally find out.
The spent the next hour making sure the camp was packed up and the fire extinguished. They ate some of the mudcrab soup and then set about to loading up the horses and their bags.
They backtracked through the maze-like pieces of land until they got back to the main road. By late morning they had made it back to the Whiterun ranger cabin. It was an uneventful trip, and uneventful was something Halas needed after his last journey.
Having arrived at the cabin Halas set about carefully tanning the hides of the wolves he had killed. As he racked each skin he carefully used his dagger to scrape off bits of dried fat. He had salted it before packing it a few days before and now he worked diligently to get the skin as clean as possible. It took an hour for the three hides to be cleaned properly. He took them down to the basement where they would stay for another week or so and then they would be washed in saltwater to make sure any last bits of fat and other things that could sour the skins was removed. Finally he would use troll fat to make the skins supple. The dried skins from the salt water bath would soak up the fat like a sponge and be full again. Tanning properly was a long process and if you didn’t do it right, rot would eventually set in.
Halas then set about dissecting the armor that the bandits were wearing. The necromancer robe would be useless as it had a hole in it and was red with blood. Halas held the robe and debated burning it in the fire but something told him to keep it. His finger moved to the hole in the robe where the arrow punched through and then quietly folded it up. He would keep it for now.
He pulled off 10 decent pieces of leather from all the armor he had collected from the bandits. It was about a third of the total leather. However the bandits had not cared for their armor well. Markus instructed Halas to bring the leather down to the workbench near the now blazing fire that Faendal had started.
“Get that frostbite venom from your bag and any others you may have,” instructed Markus as he set a pot on top of the workbench. Halas returned a short time later with seven more vials of frostbite venom. Marcus took the venom from Halas and began to pour it into the small pot until it was about a third full.
Taking a piece of leather that Halas had pulled off the bandits he put it in the pot. Small bubbles began to come off the leather and a small amount of steam drifted off the surface of the black liquid. “Now when the bubbling and steaming stops take out the leather. Be Careful though because that poison will burn your skin something fierce!”
Faendal had come over now and watched Marcus cook the leather in the poison. Soon it was very dark and he pulled it out and set it on some linen to dry.
Halas was amazed as he watched normal leather nearly turn black from the frostbite venom. “Give this a day or two to dry and then condition it with some troll fat and you can make all sorts of things from it, “ Marcus continued as he placed another piece of leather in the black liquid.
“How does it do that?” Halas inquired as he stared wide-eyed at the new piece of leather bubbling in the poison.
“Some people thinks it burns the leather without fire and others say the poison just soaks in better.” Faendal shrugged. “People began to notice that when they would get hit with frostbite venom their armor would blacken.”
The trio finished their work with the leather and frostbite venom and moved on to sharpening their blades. Marcus showed Halas how to properly sharpen an axe blade on the grindstone. Halas watched as Marcus traced the blade over the grindstone at a certain angle and with a certain force. Soon the axe head was particularly shiny and Marcus handed it over to Halas. Halas then took his turn sharpening various items including daggers. Halas’s skill at working with iron was progressing well and he was almost ready for steel. Alvor would determine that. Hopefully after the ranger council Halas would have more time for training so that he could transition to steel.
Soon Halas had a grumbling in his stomach and suggested he cook up some dinner. The three drank coffee while Halas made a stew and placed some potatoes in the coals of the stove. They all had some ale with the dinner and then Halas decided it was time for bed.
The next morning Halas woke and Faendal told him that he needed to go ahead and go to Whiterun to do some training with Markus and then to Riverwood to meet up with Alvor. “We will start our perimeter survey of the hold tomorrow so I need you back here this evening.”
Halas was curious and started to ask questions but then Faendal smiled and told his apprentice he better get a move on.
Halas went outside and fed the horses, Suriel particularly excited to be leaving again. “You just don’t like to sit still do you boy?” Halas asked affectionately as he brushed his companion down. Soon the sun was making its slow crawl from the mountains that bordered with Morrowind. Halas wondered what that place looked like. He had heard stories and was incredibly curious about that land. He shrugged, and saddled Suriel for the ride to Whiterun. He put away the food bag and Suriel looked at Halas with almost sad eyes. “Oh I almost forgot!” Halas reached into his bag an pulled out a green apple. It was the last one and Suriel crunched away on it voraciously.
Faendal had told Halas to pick up some fresh fruits and vegetables. It was almost mid-year and many different crops were coming into season including potatoes, leeks, and cabbage. They also needed some salt and if the Khajiit were outside of Whiterun, Faendal wanted Halas to get some coffee.
Halas had planned to sell several of the skins he had tanned and hoped to get enough money to keep for himself. He realized he still owed Faendal and Willow money. Faendal however had only been taking about half of his money for himself so that at least Halas had some septims to himself.
He arrived in Whiterun and as he stabled Suriel for the morning the stablemaster told Halas that the Khajiit had moved on to Markarth and would not be back for several more days. Halas nodded and tipped the man and then made his way into Whiterun. He made his way to Jorvaskar where Vilkas and Farkus were sparring outside. “Fresh meat! “ cried Farkas. Vilkas only smiled and Halas rolled his eyes at the jab.
During the course of the morning training Halas learned how to parry attacks and to strike with the spike that was opposite the blade of the axe. “You can hook someone’s weapon or shield with that and then drive home an attack with the other axe,” Markus said as he watched Halas attempt to pull down Farkas’s giant sword. Farkas was just so strong and knew what Halas was trying to do. “Just remember that in a real fight you have to surprise your foe with a move like that. It is likely to only work once and you have to make it count, “ Marcus moved around to the other side of the brothers and the apprentice and continued watching and offering pointers.
Halas was learning rapidly with the axes and it was a natural fit. Marcus was only an apprentice when Halas’s parents were killed nearly fifteen years previously. But Faendal had said it was like watching Halas’s father when Halas was swinging the war axes. “It’s a truly uncanny resemblance, “ Faendal had said.
Morning was being replaced with the bright sunshine of the afternoon and everyone sat down at the various outdoor tables of Jorvaskarr and enjoyed a simple and yet satisfying lunch. That reminded Halas that he needed to stop by the vendor stalls on his way to Riverwood.
Halas bid goodbye to Marcus, “I guess I won’t see you till the Ranger Council, “ Halas said with a slight nervousness in his tone. As the council grew closer Halas had become increasingly nervous. He knew he would be under the scrutiny of all the rangers and it made him uncomfortable. He was terrified he would not be able to continue his apprenticeship and be left all alone.
He put it out of his mind resigning to fate and to try not to let it bother him. He went to the vendors and bought a variety of vegetables and some green apples that Suriel loved. He spent over a hundred septims on supplies and then went to the general merchant and smithy to sell his skins. He got a little more than the last time because people had bought the skins rather quickly from Belethor and War Maiden’s.
Overall he made about 25 septims in profit. Not great but not terrible either. Suriel was ready to go and the two headed off to Riverwood.
Here Halas spent the day working with iron and crafting a variety of things including axes. Shaping the metal and creating something from nothing was quite a rewarding thing and Halas enjoyed it. Plus Riverwood really felt like a home to him. The thing that held Halas back was buying supplies to further his skill at blacksmithing. Leather was expensive which is why most people in Skyrim didn’t walk around in armor. Leather pieces were running at about 75 septims which is the same price he could get for one of his wolf skins. The saber cat skin would fetch about 200 septims but Faendal wanted Halas to hang onto it.
The average person only earned about 50 septims for a days work and much of their pay was used for day to day expenses. Wearing a nice set of armor is practically a luxury in this land. People noticed you if you wore armor because that means you either had the skill to make it or the money to buy it.
Halas stretched and decided it was best to head back to the cabin. There was plenty of daylight but he knew that his master would have many things for him to do before they set out on their perimeter survey of the hold.
Chirurgeon
Active Member
Thank you so much for following. Sorry the updates have been kinda slow. Hope to have another update in the next day or so
