OOC: Long story ahead.
28th Evening Star 4E 201
Igmund, the pompous Jarl of Markarth, unexpectedly asked for my assistance today. By his insulting assessment of my chosen path as a sword for hire, I half considered ending our conversation mid sentence with a sharp blade through his throat. He needed help in clearing a band of Forsworn from a cave were they had holed up. I was reluctant at first, as I've come across a few of those savages who are imbued with powers from those most foul Hagravens they commune with. Un-natural strength these few posses, and magic skills to boot.
It took some prodding, but I was able to discern that these particular Forsworn were implicated in the death of the Jarls father. The Jarl asked that I return to him, if possible, the shield which bore his family crest. The shield had been taken from his father when he was killed, and as yet, no champion of the hold had been able to return it. I understood this plea. To this day I still carry my fathers amulet, the one he gave me on that cold night when my life changed. If I had lost it, I would stop at nothing to get it back, so the Jarls request rang deep in me. He warned me gravely, that this band of Forsworn were known to favor a Hagraven in their midst.
Lydia and I set out shortly there after, to first find the man who had killed Igmunds Father. Our hope was to learn the location of the main camp, and hopefully the location of the shield, from him. The Divines must have felt my apprehension and fear. As if by magic, Esbern and Delphine rounded a bend on the road in front of us, just as I was considering my final will. They had been very near to finding the entrance to the temple which housed Alduins wall, and had been going to Markarth to send word for me to meet them. I asked, and they agreed to go with us to Dragon Bridge. I was thankful for the company, and more confident in the potential success of my task.
I shall note here, I do not believe in coincidence.
We crossed the Karth just east of Dragon Bridge and began our search of the mountains on the east bank of the river. We had assumed the killer would be holed up somewhere fortified, as there was a thousand septim price on their head. The search took some time and we 'interrogated' more than a few of these Forsworn rebellions. Eventually we came on a small cave which was guarded by just a few of the savage women. Make no mistake, the woman are as deadly as the men, and even more cunning. If one was to judge simply from the outside resistance, we did not suspect we would find the culprit inside. For luck we had, and for bad luck this was one of the foulest of the movement. Briar hearts are renown for their gifted abilities, and are little to be trifled with. We chose to use the advantage of surprise, and with quick arrows I felled the body guard who was with him. The murderer ran to the exit, only to find that Lydia was there, and was more than up to the task of dispensing justice. She danced rather nimbly in her heavy armor, and used that ebony blade to deliver precise thrusts and slashes. In minutes, the half dead man was fully done and his remaining life force left his body.
We were not able to surmise the location of the shield from the man before Lydia struck him down. This only meant our task was more difficult, and we were hardened in our resolve to complete the Jarl's request. We returned to Dragon bridge to rest our bodies, tend to our wounds and make a plan of attack to hunt down the rest of the Forsworn camps in search of the shield.
This part of the realm is abundant with flowering plants, and as we left Dragon bridge I helped myself to several varieties that I used in my brews. It was a fine star lit evening, with a dull light less moon in the sky. We set out on the road north, then made our way west through the highlands. As soon as we crossed that invisible barrier that marks the high lands from the river valley, a storm rolled over us. Snow flakes as big as my eye were falling, and the sky looked as if it had been swallowed up by an angry, gray beast. We struggled westward, using the sparse vegetation and nooks in the rock to escape the onslaught of wind and snow.
It was in this maelstrom that a peculiar event happened. On a couple of occasions I have heard this voice in my head, belonging to an unknown woman. I know, this makes me sound as if Akatosh has taken my brains, but I swear these voices to be as real as yours or mine. The voice spoke of a forgotten worship, and the boon which is bestowed on those who worship. She told me to come to her altar, though I saw nothing through the thick blowing snow. The first such occasion this happened I had just pilfered a small white stone from a house. The voice told me to return this stone to a place far away, as it belonged to her, and I would be rewarded. At the second happenstance, I was solving a curiosity about some claims that Balgruuf's son had made. I was down in the cellars of Dragons reach when I found a secret door behind the provisions through which voice bade me to enter. As I did, for what reason I don't know, I found an empty room save one table with a long ebony blade laid on it. The voice in my head told me to take the blade and thanked me. The malevolent woman told me the sword would increase in power when used for deceit. This last part made my blood curl.
Do I possess such demons inside me truly? Are these the demons my father had mentioned, now joined the hunt for my blood? I had hoped this was only a fable, a story meant to keep me sharp. It is now a tale that haunts my every waking moment.
There was a strange aura to this place, confirmed by the desperate hunter we came across running through the woods. She was in bad shape, cut and scraped, and was begging for a potion to cure a vampire affliction! I had not known vampires came this far east, and I had never seen one myself. We had been taught how to dispose of them growing up in High Rock, as a result of the wars fought with the vampire clans. I hadn't considered my traveling troupe in a while, but I found comfort in the added company of Esbern and Delphine at this time. We gave her a potion and she thanked us. I may have missed the hint in the haste of her departure.
Just past Clearpine pond, we came across two spriggans battling a troll. I promise this not to be the start of some bad bardic comedy. Esbern deemed it wisest to dispose of all the beasts in this uncanny sight, least they turn on us, so we set on them with sword and spell. There was little resistance, and I was able to harvest some roots and some fat for my alchemy. This place had a strange energy flowing through it, as if the forgotten Daedra had claimed it as their home. I have labeled this area as 'Den of Meridia', as she is the only such being I know of, and the nicest from what I hear.
We came to a Forsworn encampment nestled inside the ruins of an old fort. Had it not been for the half naked savages eagerly trying to kill me and my companions, the site would have been marvelously historic. Esbern, from the midst of his incantations of fire joked that we must have hit the jackpot, an indication to the likelihood of the foul bird lady's presence. Some of the savages ran at us with their stone and bone weapons, some stayed back and showered us with those fearsome arrows. Magic sizzled and crackled and burned its way through the chorus of chants, orders and chaos. I had taken perch high on a ledge over looking the battle, using my position to effectively place my glass arrows deep in the skulls and between the shoulders of our foes. The Briar heart warriors of the Forsworn were not as formidable as I remember, or perhaps the countless hours of practice have hardened Lydia to such a point. The combination of arrows and magic complimented the skill of her sword well, and quickly the forces outside the fort ruins fell.
Entering the ancient place only made us feel more cold and more damp and more anxious to leave, and return to a warm hearth and a cold mead. We finally ran across the Hagraven and her witches, deep in the dungeons of the disused keep. Being Breton has always had it's advantages, and I took the opportunity to teach these mages what it felt like to cast a useless spell. Several times the hag queen dissolved into the place between places to make her escape. You should have seen the old birds face when her spells did little to slow my blade, as I neatly and efficiently carved up her ancient skin.
Up and up we climbed, chasing our prey and felling her would be protectors. Esbern and Delphine handled attacks from a ranged position, offering fireballs and arrows in great number and to great effect. Lydia and I charged ahead, with one swinging sword while the other advanced with shield to block. Finally we chased the old crone on to the cliffs edge that served as the forts highest observation point. Here, my sword and Delphine's arrows sent the repentant mutation over the edge, landing gruesomely on the rocks below.
Having avenged the death of the Jarl's father, and having located the shield which bore his family's crest, we headed back to Markarth. We were weary, and tired, and that darn Elven metal would take hours to clear of the stains. It was late afternoon by the time we arrived at the gates of the great city in the mountain. The long journey by foot had grown a deep pain in our bellies, and a sour distemper needing of a good bath. We retired to my home in Markarth for the night, and returned to the Jarl in the morning.
I'm becoming fond of this house. I may have to spend some time here decorating.
