Private Legend of Lies

[AS88]

Kjorvir sat and watched as Zhar told tales of the Dawnguard and Dwemer, of vampires and bolts quick as lightning. He thought on about the first crossbow he saw, a steel one similar to Sander's propped on a barstool in a tavern, belonging to a Dawnguard. So fascinated Kjorvir had been, and yet disappointed when they left before he'd had chance to ask them about it. He had only been young then, younger than Sander now, and he smiled as he thought back to his boyish amazement.

"The most unique characteristic of a crossbow is the sound it makes when it unleashes a bolt, very distinguishable. In almost an instant your target will be impaled before it realizes what hit it."

"Aye? I shall make sure not to stand in the boy's way, then"

Kjorvir laughed as he stretched his legs and stood, Zhar had taken to his feet and was squinting into the darkness. The Nord followed suit in vain, seeing nothing through the obsidian night.

"Stoke the fire, my friend. Food has arrived."

As he looked into the fire, Kjorvir was reminded of an old time years ago, when one of the other men had sung a song he had never heard before. The tale of the Dragonborn was big news across the taverns and grand halls of Skyrim, and everyone sought to make a few Septims from it. The man thought himself a Bard, but judging by his songs he was little more than an adventurer, though he loathed to admit it. To the tune of Ragnar the Red, Kjorvir quietly murmured the tune as he stoked and fed the fire.

Oh there was once a tale of three heroes of old, of Gormlaith and Hakon and Felldir the Old.

And Alduin sought to devour them all, so the three took their refuge in Ysgramor's Hall.

That was til their saviour, the Dragonborn came, the mists of Sovngarde their Voices did tame.

Alduin fell and he was torn asunder, the sound of defeat shook all Nirn like his thunder.

And when Shor caught word of their harrowing taaale, they returned with their Valour to drink all the ale!

 

[Aerin]

Upon seeing the campfire Elsa strode with renewed vigour, the weight of the stag seeming a little lighter now that rest was in sight. Sighing loudly she pushed onwards, eventually the shadows cast by the dancing flames licking at hers and Sander's feet. With great effort they lowered the stag to the ground, Elsa pausing to roll her shoulders, her muscles knotted and protesting after the strain of carrying the dead weight of the slain beast.

As they had approached Kjorvir's voice had reached them, the warrior singing a tale Elsa could not recognise. Though his voice was soft, in the quiet of the night it was heard easily amongst the chirruping of insects and the the muffled breeze that blew through their camp. "After all that your voice is like a nightingale's lullaby Kjorvir." The thief smiled and she tiredly sank to her knees, her hands bracing against her thighs as she tried to fight off the exhaustion that was overwhelming her. She wondered if she had a sleeping draught in her pack that would help her rest before they tackled the tomb. "Your dinner sirs. Skinned and gutted for your pleasure."

 

[MjolnirV]

Elsa sank down to her knees from exhaustion, Sander did not look much better either, after all he carried a large stag while wearing heavy plate armor. Reaching behind him Zhar picked up two canteens and tossed them at the two hunters. "Drink up, my friends, you've earned it."

The stag was large, larger than the campfire built by Zhar and Kjorvir. Cooking the beast would be a slow process if done by conventional means and Zhar was more than happy to provide an alternative solution. "Kjorvir find some large stakes for us to push into the earth, I'm going to cook dinner tonight." A Khajiit krin accompanied the mage's order and his fists began to warm...

 

[Aerin]

Catching the canteen Elsa drank the cool water greedily, enjoying the soothing feel on her throat. Sighing softly she leant back to sit with her legs crossed, her hands deftly removing her bow and quiver from her back that she might relax a small amount before even considering moving again.

Looking over to Zhar she realised what he meant to do in regards to cooking the beast and she smiled tiredly. "You know, I fear too many of my fellow nords take magic for granted, who knew it could prove so wholeheartedly practical?"

 

[Sierra312]

As the dead weight of the deer carcass slid from his shoulder, the Khajiit, Zhar, tossed over a metal container that sloshed and gurgled with liquid life as it span end over end through the air.

Deftly catching the canteen, the knight unstoppered the curious container and took a swig. Metal water vessels were something of a rarity in Skyrim, where tin and pewter were more likely to be crafted into ale tankards. The lid was cleverly fastened to the neck of the canteen with a small chain - an ingenious design - and the knight wondered if Zhar had fashioned it himself.

Realising the Khajiits intentions in terms of cooking their kill, the Redguard grew apprehensive; he had never seen magic used in this way before, and wondered briefly if it would alter the taste of the meat somehow, but pushed the thought from his mind. Fire was fire, he supposed, whether it came from the strike of a flint or the palm of a hand. He himself had used magic to light a cooking fire on more than one occasion, this was just a little different.

 

[MjolnirV]

Kjorvir went off into the brush searching for large enough branches to perch the stag for cooking, a difficult task seeing as how the Reach was not known for its lush vegetation.

The two hunters took to the canteens quickly and did not waste the opportunity to replenish lost water. After gulping down a few mouthfuls Elsa shared her thoughts on magic:
"You know, I fear too many of my fellow nords take magic for granted, who knew it could prove so wholeheartedly practical?"

Poking the camp fire with a stick Zhar couldn't help but nod his head but he hated doing so. "We mages overlook the practicality of magic sometimes, we grow too focused on expanding the borders of the arcane that we lose sight of the simple things. It spoils our ego hearing that magic is practical, as if years of study seem to be a waste." Zhar took a brief moment to look up at Elsa and he could see that she meant no disrespect with her utterance. "I take no offense though. The luxury of magic lies in the practicality of it." Zhar gave a krin before turning his eyes to the brush, Kjorvir returned with wood for a spit.

The mage helped the Nord with driving the large pieces of wood into the earth then aided in prepping the beast before setting it into position. Once the stag was elevated Kjorvir stepped away from Zhar whose hands began to glow with flame.

After twenty minutes of roasting by mage fire the stag was ready to be eaten. Taking in a deep breath and letting it out Zhar wiped his brow with the back of his hands. "Alright, time for supper."

 

[Aerin]

"It spoils our ego hearing that magic is practical, as if years of study seem to be a waste. I take no offense though. The luxury of magic lies in the practicality of it."

Elsa dipped her head, remembering all too well the ego of most mages. "Trust me when I say I would only voice my personal thoughts to you. You understand I mean no offence, but I think it would be better if I didn't voice these thoughts to other mages, lest I be reduced to a smouldering pile of ash and dust."

Watching the mage cook the meat was oddly fascinating. It seemed to require a good deal of effort to maintain the plumes of fire that billowed from his palms, and yet Elsa knew that this feat was just the tip of the khajiit's true powers. "So tomorrow we brave the tomb yes? I admit the closer we get the more impatient I grow. I'm intrigued to know just who intends to ambush us inside."

 

[AS88]

Kjorvir sat motionless in the tent as he stared into the flames coming from Zhar's..... hands? Paws? He thought about the events of the past couple of days, Sander's return and the devastating loss of his blade resulting in the appearance of his crossbow, Elsa's deftness with her bow in the storm, and hunter's dependability, and Zhar's planning and resourcefulness, coupled with his discomforting hidden power. Kjorvir thought for a second about the possibility of Zhar not being all he seemed, and his tired mind grew apprehensive of the trek into the tomb as he considered how Sander, Elsa and himself would fare against a pair of Dremora. He shook the idea away as he stretched and looked out over the Reach, now almost totally shrouded in darkness.

He stayed quiet, turning his attention back to the party as they milled around with food and their own matters. The two youngsters had proven themselves already, and as he reached down to his slightly sore knee, he thought about his past roles in travelling groups. Normally I'm the brawn and the brain.

 

[MjolnirV]

"Trust me when I say I would only voice my personal thoughts to you. You understand I mean no offence, but I think it would be better if I didn't voice these thoughts to other mages, lest I be reduced to a smouldering pile of ash and dust."

Zhar dismissed the flames, before speaking to Elsa: "I'm certain you would survive encounters with other mages. We tend to live solitary lives encases by books and notes, the company of a young beauty such as yourself is more than most can handle." Turning his face towards Elsa he gave a smile, "And I'm positive the tomb will quake at the sight of your footsteps, you will conquer it indefinitely."

Once finished with his compliments Zhar went back to cooking the nights meal, when it was ready Zhar took a step back and admired his work. "Supper's ready my friends, help yourselves to what you would like."

 

[AS88]

Kjorvir blew a quickly-condensing spout of steam from his mouth as he juggled his supper around the parts his mouth that weren't already sizzling.

"By the...... this....... you......."

He stifled a laugh before regaining control of himself and his food, leaning over quickly to catch his bottle of mead which was about to tip out of it's nest between a pair of rocks.

"Ysimir's beard, this is hot! Tender, though."

He took another few bites, before shooting a mischievous look at the mage.

"This is good, Zhar. You ever considered a career change?"

Kjorvir tucked into his slab of the meat, and relished the chance to eat away from civilisation, out in the wild with trusted companions, a meal caught and prepared by the group themselves. Like the Nords of old, father would be proud. His face changed to one of thoughtfulnes as his eyes lost the sight of the campfire before him. He thought of his parents, and his humble childhood learning swordsmanship from his father as his mother watched on. He thought of home, a little house on the main road, now owned by a middle aged Redguard. When this is done, I'll buy that house.

 

[Sierra312]

Offering up a silent thanks to Kyne, Sander wolfed some of the venison that was his portion of flesh from the roasting deer carcass. The meat was gamey, strong and flavoursome in its taste, wilder and more complex than the goat meat which was a common staple of the Reach, and cooked to perfection.

He noticed Kjorvir opposite him, struggling to regain his composure after hastily swallowing a mouthful of still cooking meat. As the Nord warrior settled into the rhythmic motion of chewing through their delicious meal, it seemed to Sander as if the good food, warm fire and open air had taken the older man to a place far off. He wondered whether it would be impertinent to ask, but decided that a campfire was a fitting place for the sharing of tales.

"Something on your mind, Kjorvir?"

 

[MjolnirV]

Taking his portion of venison and moving to a nearby rock Zhar sat down and quickly downed his meal and picked up a tankard of mead. Leaning forward with his elbows on his knees the mage held his mug in both hands and watched his troupe enjoy a hot meal.

A story fit for the greatest of legends: a mage, thief, knight, and soldier for hire brought together by an unknown tomb that might withhold countless treasures and secrets capable of rewriting history. What a quaint feeling. Better yet this story has tales of battle, love and mystery, an epic worthy of the Bard's Guild. But what lies ahead of us will decide if this tale will be told. If this forgotten legend of Archmage Gauldur is actually a legend of lies.

From under his cloak Zhar extracted the seal of "Shadow" and stared at it, searching for answers or a faint hint.
I'm positive this character knows more about this mystery than I do

 

[AS88]

"Something on your mind, Kjorvir?"

The Redguard's voice shook Kjorvir from his vision of the past, and he seemed to look through Sander for a moment as he regained himself.

"Bah, just old memories, friend."

He shuffled on his perch and took a sip from his bottle.

"So, tell me of your hunt, you two. You surely did a good job, we have plenty here to last us a few days."

Kjorvir looked across to Zhar as Sander turned to Elsa and recounted their hunt. The Khajiit seemed as lost in thought as Kjorvir had been moments ago, as the mage studied something he'd recovered from a dark corner of his cloak.

 

[Aerin]

"So, tell me of your hunt, you two. You surely did a good job, we have plenty here to last us a few days."

Elsa wiped away a stray drip of juice at the corner of her mouth. The hunt itself had been hardly the stuff of legends, but there had been a sense of peace about her venture with Sander into the darkness of the night. She always felt...not at ease perhaps, she couldn't remember the last time she felt at ease truly, but the nighttime eased her heart, as if the shadows whispered promises to her. Promises to keep her hidden, safely tucked away in their embrace. It was foolish of course, a child's fancy, but the thought of kindly shadows guiding her arrows, holding her hands through the darkest of nights gave her comfort.

The heat from the fire had renewed her energy, the comfort brought forth from their simple meal settling in her belly comfortably to the point where Elsa could easily slip into a dreamless sleep. This was reflected in her voice, quiet and content, lacking it's usual sharpness.

"It was wonderful Kjorvir. Sander and I hunting our prey under the silver light of the moon. The beast had known us, had been following us for some time, I'd almost sent an arrow into it earlier on our way to camp." The thief pursed her lips, briefly remembering the irksome conversation she had shared with Zhar. Choosing rather deliberately to forget that she sighed, shifting a little to move away from a small rock poking into her lower back. Settled once more Elsa closed her eyes recalling the hunt. There was something so...raw.

"I can feel it now, the night embracing us. Shadow and darkness everywhere, my natural element of course." A wry grin spread across her features for but a moment. "The cool of night descended, but standing tall and proud, our mighty stag. Sander had the honours, and I must say, having seen his beautiful crossbow in action I suggest you keep it close, lest I steal it away in the middle of the night with all your other precious items and coin." Her eyes snapped open, her vision slightly hazy from the flickering campfire. She tried her best to avoid looking directly into the flame. To be left night-blind would be no help at all. "I'm only joking of course." Stifling a yawn with the back of her hand the thief tried to regain her train of thought. "It was a quick death at least, so the meat should taste sweet. No fear to sour the muscle. A quick and painless death, only fitting such a magnificent creature."

 

[MjolnirV]

Elsa's account of the hunting expedition with Sander showed her enjoyment of being on the prowl, she must get the same sensation when she..."acquires" rare and valuable objects. Zhar smirked as his mind wandered to the irony of a law-abiding Khajiit mage is in love with a thief, to some of the people Zhar left back in Elswyer that would be quite embarrassing. However that does not matter to Zhar, all he cared for was who he was with.

Zhar twitched his nose and put the sigil back into his satchel then stood up to pick at some of the meat left on the great elk to sate his lingering appetite.

"Well you two did an excellent job. I taste no fear, little burnt but I suppose that is Zhar's wrong doing."

Looking up into the sky Zhar studied the stars for a moment, almost lost in some sort of trance before snapping his head back towards the party. "We should sleep, we will move out early tomorrow."

 

[Aerin]

"We should sleep, we will move out early tomorrow."

Elsa nodded sleepily and dragged the small plate she had been using from her lap to the floor. Already lying on her bedroll it was far too easy to let the heavy weight of tired muscles drag her towards sleep. Though she was aware that politeness required she at least offer to take the first shift, she was worn out, and the years of travelling alone had honed her instincts to such a level that if she needed to wake quickly she would be able to do so without effort. Curling up by the fire Elsa dozily noted they would likely all be able to sleep at the same time. The mouth of the cave was narrow enough that only one person could enter at a time quietly enough to ambush. With their cumulative skills and paranoia it was unlikely for them to be caught off guard.

Those small mercies in her mind, the thief quickly drifted to sleep, the comforting burn of the fire's warmth lapping at sleep-softened features. It was unusual that she might entrust herself so quickly to the men she was travelling with, gods knew how dangerous her lifestyle could be. Perhaps she was growing lax in her judgement as she grew older, or perhaps she had had enough of closing her heart off to those who might wish to know it. It had been too long since she had known anyone she might call a friend, and as her mind turned to dreams she felt a rare sense of content that she had barely ever felt in her life. Odd that she might encounter such a feeling in a dank and damp cave with a mysterious group hunting her and her companions down.

 

[MjolnirV]

One by one the party drifted to sleep, one by one Zhar watched his friends retreat to their bedrolls for one final night of rest before braving the unknown tomb. Yet the mage could not bring himself to succumb to sleep quite yet, no his mind would not allow the Khajiit to relax. Sitting away from the fire and facing the darkness of the Reach Zhar meditated on life, the one he left back in Elswyer, the one he lived in the College, and the life of love he began with Elsa. To describe the transitions in Zhar's life as radical is an understatement to say the least.

Studying the stars Zhar accounted his time with the group: the first meeting with the wise Kjorvir, bringing heart ache to Sander through the destruction of his family's sword, and the image of the gleamblossum flower that Zhar sent to Elsa the morning the journey began. "This one was very courageous to do such a thing," Zhar spoke to himself, "Yet this one doesn't complain. Zhar has found an excellent companion... but why do I question so much? I am more than capable of caring for the Nord but what if she isn't content with me?"

Turning back towards the camp Zhar stared at Elsa as she slept. "She seems happy... Despite her young age she has an old soul that serves her well. This one hopes his soul serves her well... Strange to say such things. Zhar is one of intelligence that does not follow faith yet has spoken of souls." Zhar stepped into the camp and crept towards Elsa, kneeling down Zhar moved her hair away from her face and softly kissed her cheek and whispered, "Goodnight my dear."

Sitting beside Elsa, Zhar stoked the fire and continued to pick at his character.

 

[MjolnirV]

As the sun began to rise it illuminated the mists that crept down from the mountain tops during the night, displaying a landscape ragged and torn by crags. Opening one eye Zhar saw the remains of what once was the campfire and groaned. "Fell asleep on duty..."

Sitting up the mage rubbed his eyes and looked about himself. Everyone was still asleep. "Ah, group of sleepy soldiers. Shame really." Getting up Zhar stretched his body, his bones cracking in response; the cold air refreshing his lungs and his chest expanded. Once the mage felt limber enough to start his day he looked down at Elsa, she was huddled in her bedroll avoiding the Skyrim air. With the tip of his tail Zhar tickled her nose until she began to stir, "Wake up, my dear. Time for breakfast." Turning to his head towards his other two companions Zhar gave a quick shout, "Get up, everyone, it's wake up time. We head into the tomb today."

Reaching her his satchel the mage rummaged through his belongings for breakfast and out he removed four sweet rolls. "Breakfast of warriors and heroes alike. Eat up." Zhar began to pass out the sweet treat.

 

[Aerin]

They had been on the trail for days now. Each time they had arrived at what should have been the correct location, it had turned out to be simply another hoax. But here they were, in the basement of an abandoned fort, their prize just out of reach behind a large ebony plated door and a series of complicated puzzle-locks. The air was thick with tension. Looking beside her Elsa could see the Grey Fox, his cowl embraced by shadow, nod imperceptibly at her. Swallowing Elsa slowly exhaled and reached out...

The sensation of something tickling her nose caused Elsa to frown in her sleep, one hand braving the icy cold outside of her bedroll to swat at the mysterious offender. When the feeling persisted the thief opened her eyes and huffed as she saw Zhar moving about the camp. Muttering something rather untoward about mages and the use of their tails Elsa reluctantly sat up, fighting a yawn as she began to move stiff limbs in an attempt to get the blood flowing to them once more.

She gratefully accepted the sweetroll offered to her, a small smile tugging at her lips. "I've always found these taste better stolen.", she quietly remarked to no one in particular, remembering her childhood hobby of stealing sweetrolls from the local baker while they were still piping hot and cooling on the windowsill.

Reminding herself of their goal Elsa tried to extinguish any distracting thoughts. Once they were inside the tomb she would have to be completely focussed. Sharp eyes would scan for traps, doors, lurking enemies...anything really that could cause harm to an unwary traveller. It was thrilling in a way, the adrenaline already beginning to course through her system as she thought of what they might find. That wasn't even taking into account the mysterious organisation that seemed to be shadowing the group. Already they had ben through so much and yet they had barely even started what was likely to be a memorable venture into the unknown. Disentangling herself from the furs she had wrapped herself in the night before Elsa began to methodically pack her things, using the familiar routine to calm her increasingly concerned mind. Initially there had been simply the allure of treasure and travel, but now there were unexpected variables to consider, which made the outcome of this journey far riskier than Elsa cared for. Absently she wondered what had become of Astor, the man she had been travelling with when she had first arrived at Windhelm. She doubted her was face down in a shallow grave, but it wouldn't have surprised her to hear he'd been run out of town for drunken behaviour. She had always been the on to reign him in when need be. Oddly they had made an efficient pair, once you were able to overlook his disgusting personality and personal hygiene. Shaking her head she looked over the men she was with now and touched the small amulet under her armour and clothing. Whether they believed in the same as she or not, she sent a small prayer to the Divines to watch over her friends in their upcoming quest. She had a strong feeling they would need the hand of the Divines if they were to come out of this unscathed.

 

[AS88]

"Breakfast of warriors and heroes alike. Eat up."

Kjorvir shot a joking look at Zhar and took a bite out of the sweetroll, leaving about half of it remaining in his leathery grip. The Nord didn't usually go in for sweets, save for mead of course, but something about the treat gave his brain a bit of a kick into gear and he packed the rest of his belongings quickly.

A few minutes passed and the group were almost ready to set off on the final trek to the tomb tucked away somewhere nearby. Kjorvir sat on a mossy boulder and set his pack down as he stretched his arms and shoulders, reintroducing his body to the curves and folds of his armour as he clipped and belted the steel and leather to his body. His eyes tiredly tried to pierce through the morning mists so synonymous with Reach mornings, but to little avail - he could see only the small crests, crags and cliff tops on a similar level to their modest camp, set handily a few yards above the mist. Sensing that the others were almost ready to depart, he turned to the band's leader.

"So Zhar, what else can you tell us of this place? Perhaps anything about how you came to learn of it, or any other Gauldur stories?"

Kjorvir knew he was reaching a little, but hoped that by now the Khajiit trusted him almost as much as he trusted the scrolls and parchment he retired to every evening. He trusted Zhar, more than he expected to trust him when they met at Windhelm, but the not knowing still unsettled Kjorvir. Of course, many jobs like this had some sort of privileged information, but nothing ever so infamous as the Gauldur legend. For the second time on their trip, the Nord noticed an unusual feeling creeping into the back of his mind; nerves.