//------------------------------// // Windcaller's Horn Arc part 1: Go for the throat // Story: Changeling Escapades: Skyrim // by Erised the ink-moth //------------------------------// “Stop right there!” a woman in hide clothing stopped our heroes and their housecarl as they tried to pass Valtheim Towers. The walk from Whiterun had been fairly pleasant up until that point. The sun was shining, the birds were chirping, the air had a freshly crisp taste to it that only slightly hinted of burned cheese. Stross hadn’t bothered to cover his true form up with anything but his gray cloak and hood since they got out of town, Lydia sprinted in full platemail to keep up with them, and Fenora had taken it upon herself to stop and pick every single random plant on the side of the road and stuff it in her pack. Yes life was just fine for the three of them. But then they happened upon Valtheim Towers, as was rather inevitable. The giant stone structure rose up at least three stories, and a stone bridge spanned the river to reach its twin on the other side, not that there was much else over there. Local legend suggests that the towers were a piece of a larger array of towers, the defense grid for a much larger Valtheim Keep. The keep itself however had all but vanished, if it ever existed at all. My money’s on those mages at the College of Winterhold having something to do with it. Regardless of hypothetical superstructures, our heroes found themselves in quite a bind. “This here’s a toll bridge, see? So you’re gonna have to pay up… let’s say a hundred septims. Each!” “Sorry." Fenora said and drew her sword. "I don’t pay tolls to bandits.” And like that the clashing and slashing of steel began. The first bandit hadn’t taken kindly to the insult, and had rushed Fenora with nothing more than a cooking ladle she’d been using. That bandit was now missing a lot of blood. More were pouring out of the stonework though, and three more wielding axes rushed the bosmer. Fortunately Lydia lived up to her motto, acting as Fenora’s sword and shield and intercepted one of them. While Fenora deflected blows and Lydia hammered another with the front of her shield, Stross threw a flashbang that stuck to the bandit forming up the center. Whilst blinded, they put up little resistance while Fen and Lydia finished them off. “Quick, there’s more up there.” Fenora pointed out as arrows began falling down on them from the opposite side of the river. Archers had taken up positions with hunting bows, and were now taking shots at them. The three of them took cover inside the tower, making their way up a set of narrow staircases to get to higher ground and across the bridge that led to the archers’ perch. “So… this happen often around here?” Stross asked along the way. “Oh all the time,” Lydia answered, “There’s always an infinitely replenishing supply of criminals trying to extort and harass travelers and merchants in Skyrim. If I remember correctly, there was a bounty out for the leader residing in these towers, but none have claimed it yet.” “Well how much are you offering?” Fenora asked while she peeked out of cover, waiting for the perfect opportunity to dash across the bridge and hit the archers like a tidal wave of steel and pain. “One hundred septims.” Fenora froze and slowly turned even as arrows kept falling on their position. “Seriously?” she said with a disbelieving look. “That’s it? I’d earn more by picking vegetables all day. It’s no wonder no one’s bothered to collect.” “Fen, they’re still shooting at us!” Stross reminded her. “Oh... right. Well let’s hope they’ve got some decent loot on them to make this worth it. You two ready?” she asked and dared to poke her head into the open. Stross nodded and raised a fistful of fire. “I’ve never been more ready.” Lydia affirmed. “Right, go!” Fenora gave the signal and the three of them charged forward across the bridge. Arrows flew past their heads, and Stross made sure to duck behind Lydia and her armored meat-shieldy-ness as much as possible while she returned fire with a bow of her own. Fenora on the other hand wore no such encumbering clothes, and had managed to dash across the bridge in record time. She was already on top of the archers by the time Lydia had let her second arrow fly. From where he stood, Stross saw an enemy arrow strike Fenora in her right shoulder, but she kept going and hacked the offending archer to pieces. By then the other two were lining up shots on her, but Stross wasn’t about to let that happen, and fired a stunner at one of them. That bandit went limp the second it hit, and the last was clearly having second thoughts about the situation at this point. While Fenora descended on his friend and drove a sword through his chest, that last bandit made the choice to flee in the only way he could; a dive straight down into the river below. “We did it! We won.” Stross cheered, but then noticed that Fenora was eyeing the bandit who’d fled, swimming downstream as quickly as he could. She pulled the bow off one of the fallen archers and nocked an arrow. In a single fluid motion she let it fly, and it hit home, staining the water red. One more and she was finally satisfied with her work, watching as the slaughterfish went to work on ripping up the body. “Fine work my thane!” Lydia shouted her compliment from the bridge, “Shall we collect the spoils?” “Yeah! Come over here and help me search this tower. Stross, you get that one. Be sure to check under the stairs, there’s always something hidden behind the stairs. Always!” Fenora shouted her instructions. Lydia left to join her… and immediately fell off the bridge into the river below. Because of course she did. While the housecarl swam to shore in order to try again, Stross decided to do as Fenora instructed and search the place for anything useful. Still, he couldn’t help but feel shaken at how she’d so mercilessly killed that one archer who’d tried to flee. He supposed it was for the best… as clearly these were bad people who did bad things to not-bad people. Still, it unsettled him. What if Fenora wasn't quite the innocent traveler he first thought she was? What if she- Ooh, shiny gold coins! Oooooohhh! Cheese Wheels! Stross decided to let those bad thoughts take a back seat and went about stuffing as much stuff as he could into his appropriated burlap sack. Gold coins, piece of leather, five bottles of purple stuff, fifteen apples- *Chomp*… fourteen apples, entire bookshelf’s worth of random books; he didn’t even know what most of this stuff would be used for, but they’d find something to do with it. He even checked under the stairs like Fenora said, and sure enough, there was a small wooden chest poorly concealed underneath. It wasn’t even locked! Inside was a shield, a few metal bricks, more miscellaneous junk that he shoved inside his bag anyway… “Okay! I think that’s everything. Time to get mo-Hurk! Heh… time to- Grrruuu-guh! Why is it so hard to move?” Stross asked as his feet could barely get off the floor. “Well my little changeling, looks like you’re a little overburdened there.” Fenora said with a chuckle as she came in through the passage to the bridge. She couldn’t help but laugh when she saw him standing in a barren room trying to drag a sack stretched twice his own size. “Here, let me help you sort this stuff out. How much did you find anyway?” “Oh y’know… I just sort of picked up everything.” Stross scuffed at the floor with his boot. “I’ll say.” Fenora said as she pulled a chair out of the sack and passed it to him. “Take a seat Stross, I’m going to learn you some things from the book of dear ol’ dad, Trey Sure-finder.” Stross hopped onto his seat in an attentive pose. At that moment Lydia came up the stairs for the third time, still sopping wet, and she decided to stay and watch too rather than fall in again. “Alright, first thing he’d always start with is the difference between scavenging, and looting. Because yes there’s a difference.” Fenora began. “Basically, it depends on how picky you are with what you take. Scavenging is whatever’s useful to you, and looting is based on how much something’s worth. And by how much you’ve crammed in here, I can safely say you passed the threshold into ‘pillaging’ territory.” Stross found himself with an embarrassed blush, which only grew when Fenora decided to just dump out everything onto the floor. It took a good few seconds for everything to finally get shaken out. Fenora picked up one of many small bags of coins first. “Always useful.” She noted, making sure he got it before picking up a couple small gems, “Most of the time they’re just as good.” She pulled though a few potions, “Useful in a pinch. Keep them for yourself, but make sure you know what they do. Trust me on that.” A few plates, candlesticks and battered books, “Minimal value.” Then she looked over the metal bricks and strips of leather, lightly tossing one in the air a couple times under a scrutinizing gaze. “Save these for later.” She decided, “They might be useful.” “What about these?” Stross said, grasping a set of slightly rusted platemail and five swords of various metals, most of which slipped out of his grasp and clattered to the floor. “Only keep the armor if you intend to wear it, otherwise it's just not worth the extra weight. As for the swords… I’ll keep the swords. You can never have too many swords.” While Fenora took the time to stuff her swords in her pack, she turned to Lydia, who was miraculously dry already. “Hey Lydia, would you mind taking a few of these things?” Lydia’s face suddenly became a pained grimace. “So…” she muttered. “It begins.” Now carrying a delightfully less-than-spine-crushing amount of loot from their latest victory, Fenora, Stross and Lydia followed the river until it reached a bend that curved around the base of the mountain. At the moment, Stross wondered how much faster they could get around if they had a few pegasi to carry them over obstacles rather than around them, but realized that was just wistful dreaming, and also cursed his own wings for not being that strong. It wasn’t long before he got bored again. So he did the logical thing. “Hey Fen!” “Hmm?” Fenora hummed and looked over. “I’ve been wondering, what do you do when you’re not saving the world and killing wanted criminals?” “I already told you, I’m a farmer up at High Rock.” Fenora answered plainly. “Right, but what were you doing with your friend down in Elsweyr? According to that fancy map in Farengar’s study, that’s way down south of here. And High Rock is all the way on the other side of the continent! That’s like travelling from Dodge Junction to Vanhoover.” Stross drew the best parallel he could, “Must have been pretty important to go all that way, am I right?” Fenora could be seen as visibly annoyed while the changeling poked her in the side with his elbow. But she realized he didn’t know. I mean, how would he? It was just harmless conversation from his perspective. “If I tell you, will you promise to keep this a secret?” she asked. Stross nodded and she was about to begin, but first gave the same questioning stare to Lydia, who replied with a mouth-zip and a smile. Fenora sighed. “Okay… you’re not wrong. It was important… to me. This friend I told you about, his name was Vennik, an Argonian who had a knack for plundering old ruins. We grew up together as children, but drifted apart over the years. Still, I would write a letter every month or so, and he would write back, but we never really saw each other that much. But I always remembered how much fun we had when we were kids, exploring that old fort, and finding the abandoned library that would become our secret hideout... So when a delivery route took me to the southern end of Valenwood, I planned to hop over to Elsweyr and see him again.” Fenora gave a bleak smile as she continued. “All in all, it was going pretty well. I sent a letter ahead of time, and we met at this market for lunch. They’ve got some great spicy chicken in Elsweyr by the way. But we got to talk about what we were doing with our lives, and well… it was good.” Stross nodded. “And you were hoping to be more than just friends.” He guessed. Fenora looked to him a bit shocked, but turned her eyes forward again, and nodded slowly that he was correct. A part of Stross got its heart ripped out of its chest and crushed like a fragile piece of ornate glass, leaving it feeling cold and hollow and wounded inside. But that part was completely ignored while the part of Stross that was an absolute sucker for sappy romance kicked in and stole all the attention. “Daw, that’s so cute!” He squealed and clapped his hands to his cheeks. “Best childhood friends that grow up apart only to find each other again and become lovers! It’s like something out of a romance story!” “Only that story didn’t have a happy ending for me.” Fenora spat, “I was too late. He was already married by the time I found him again; something he conveniently forgot to mention in any of his letters. Imagine my surprise when he tells me, and that he has a child on the way too. Said he’d name it after me if it’s a girl.” She said with a humorless laugh. A more selfish part of Stross realized that meant he could have her all to himself now. That part was roughly smacked across the face with a sledgehammer while Stross gave her a pat on the shoulder. “Oh… Fen I’m so sorry.” he consoled, shoving thought of catching her on the rebound for later. Fenora looked up at him with a forced smile despite the reopened emotional wound. “Yeah. I doubt he’d want a wife like me anyway. Fighting dragons is kind of a dealbreaker after all.” That just made every part of Stross feel even worse for her, and so, all restraint thrown out the window, he did what any changeling who’d lived with ponies their whole life would do. Using his arms like taffy ropes, he glomped onto her in a big squishy, mushy hug and rubbed his cheek against her face going, “Bwwaaaaaaawww!” Fenora rolled her eyes at his antics, but returned the gesture anyway, feeling the ghost of a smile creep across her face as she did. “Feel better?” he asked. “Much. Thanks Stross. I guess it’s nice to know I’ve got you now.” Fenora had no idea how wrong of an idea she could give, and immediately regretted giving it to him the second she heard his elated “Eeeeee!” “Stross… why are you looking at me like th- EW! Oh gods, Stross cut it out! Gah, it’s all warm and slimy on my face!” Fenora yelled and shoved in vain as Stross started licking her face. It wasn’t the gross kind of licking, more of the kind you’d expect from a litter of adorable puppies, and she couldn’t help but laugh as his tongue slobbered all over her cheeks. The elf gasped for breath as she finally managed to push him off of her, and still chuckled as she wiped the saliva off with her sleeve. “You’re just silly sometimes aren’t you?” Stross just gave a pointy-toothed smile back. “My Thanes, I hate to interrupt, but it seems we’ve gotten off the road.” Lydia told them. It seems that her everpresent powers of noticing stuff were spot on today, and they had indeed wandered off the trail. Among the dense trees of one of Skyrim’s many forests, the only landmark that really stuck out was a stone cavern, too symmetrical to be natural. “Is that one of the old tombs?” Lydia asked. “Huh, according to the map’s floaty name tag, it’s called Hillgrund’s Tomb.” Stross told them after looking over the large piece of parchment. “Magic map, don’t question it.” He put simply at the questioning stare Fenora gave him. “So, I’m guessing you’ll want to have a look inside?” Lydia asked. “Hmm, nah. We’ve got bigger things to take care of.” Fenora said and began to walk away. But something the bosmer was sure to learn well during her time in Skyrim, was that you don’t just say ‘no’ to a possible quest. Her first lesson was about to begin when the a young man with a worried look on his face ran up to the three of them and begged them to listen to his tale of woe. “Please, you’ve got to help me!” he told them, “There’s a necromancer in my family’s tomb, doing all kinds of horrible things to their bodies. My Aunt Agna went in there to stop him, but it’s been hours since then!” “Look, I’m really sorry to hear that-” Fenora began, about to tell him to kindly get out of their faces. “So of course we’ll help!” she suddenly found her twin happily agreeing to help. “Wonderful! Come on, we haven’t got much time to lose!” the man raced back to Hillgrund’s entrance, leaving two elves with rather comically opposite expressions behind. “Stross,” Fenora strained, pulling the changeling back by his her hood. “Need I remind you that the safety of Skyrim is resting on us and us alone? And take off my face, it’s creepy looking at myself.” “Well we are saving Skyrim. We’re just saving a slightly smaller part of it from a different evil.” Stross argued. “Come on, with our skills this’ll be super quick. And I like wearing your face, I feel pretty with it on.” Fenora wanted to speak out, but ultimately found she had to relent on both points. “I can’t thank you three enough for helping me with this.” The man, who introduced himself as Golldir said to them as he lead the way through the main passage of the crypt with a torch. “I would have done this alone… but I couldn’t. I’m ashamed to admit this, but I’ve been terrified to come in here ever since I was locked inside as a child.” He told them, and shivered at the thought. “Three whole days I was trapped; I had to eat the offerings we give to the dead just so I wouldn’t starve. Finally Aunt Agna came and found me, cold and terrified out of my mind.” “Hey, no offence, but we didn’t ask for your life’s story. Let’s just get this over with.” Fenora interrupted his reminiscing. “A-ah, right. Of course. My apologies.” Golldir hastily amended. “The main tomb should be right this way. That’s where Vals Varen will likely be practicing his dark elf necromancy.” “Hey, don’t let my sister scare you.” Fen-Stross assured him in a much gentler voice, “She’s just grumpy because she’s got to stop Alduin and save all of Skyrim from an army of dragons. What’s the story with this Vals guy anyway?” Golldir’s eyes widened. “You mean you’re the Dragonborn?” he asked Fenora, “I’ve heard of that legend, but never thought I’d live to see it come true. It’s such an honor to meet you. It must seem unworthy for me to waste your time with my petty troubles when the fate of the world is at stake.” “You said it, not me.” Fenora quipped. “Oh, nonsense. We’re here to help everyone! Right?” Stross countered her. “That’s very generous of you. I wish Skyrim had more heroes willing to help out of the goodness of their hearts.” Golldir complimented, to which Stross practically swelled with pride. “Vals Veran’s family and mine have never seen eye to eye. We always blamed each other for being the reason the dead come back to life in Skyrim, restless. An argument we had after a few drinks went especially sour, and now he’s finally gone off the deep end, trying to teach me a lesson by desecrating my ancestors!” After passing a few hallways of mummified draugr that thankfully didn’t get up and attack them, they reached a large wooded door that led to a larger, brazier-lit chamber within. “Alright, we’re almost there. We just need to-“ Golldir began, but what caught his eye next stopped him cold. Just before another set of doors, an old nord woman lay in a pool of her own drying blood, skewered by a draugr sword. “Aunt Agna!” Golldir ran to her side, stricken with the knowledge that she was already gone, and likely had been for some time. “Talos… why didn’t I go in with her?” he whispered. In an instant, grief turned to rage at the one responsible. “That dark elf is about to be a dead elf!” he shouted and lunged at the doors, tugging at them with all his strength only for them to jiggle a bit and remain firmly shut. “Damn! They must be locked from the other side. Who knows how he’s… defiling my ancestors in there?” “Grah!” Fenora shouted as she tried to kick them down with a running start. The wood stubbornly refused to yield. “Why the- *Kick* ‘Blivion do-*Kick* these things lock from the- *Kick*other side-*Kick**Kick**Kick* ANYWAY!?” she yelled, continuing to kick if only to take out some frustration. “There is a longer way through;” Golldir offered, “a secret, winding and tedious passage through the area where they buried disgraced members of my family. If we can make it past the traps we might be able to-” “Ain’t nobody got time for that. Stross, burn through with your magic!” Fenora interrupted. Stross hesitated and took a moment to examine the door, then scratched at it with a nail. “I dunno Fen, this looks pretty thick. I’m not sure I can-“ “Bull-spit. You melted a dragon, remember? You can take care of a little laminated wood.” Fenora encouraged, “Come on, I believe in you little sis.” she said with a sarcastic wink. Stross turned back to the door and gulped. She remembered the flash-melts and the horrible pain they inflicted. But this was just a door, there was no harm in melting through an inanimate object, right? One casting and a soft *pop* later, rays of light were already dissolving the surface of the wood. “AAAAAHHH! The pain, the unbearable pain!” Came high-pitched screams from the wood, “Why would you do this to me; I’m just a door! It’s not my fault someone locked me to keep you nice people out! I can see my life flashing before my eyes! I was a magnificent tree once upon a time, but then they chopped me down and stuck me here with all the dead things! I had finally come to terms with that and then you showed up! Oh, the pain, the agony, the-“ “Stross!” Fenora yelled, “Stop it.” Stross flushed and stopped speaking for the innocent door. “Well that’s what it’d be saying right now… if it could talk… and was alive and sentient.” Fenora rolled her eyes and drew her sword as the light finally died out. Now with a nicely sized hole melted through the door, she was able to reach through and unlock it. And then she kicked it open and stormed through like a badass! Because when you have the option, you don’t not choose awesomeness. “Vals, show yourself! It’s time to pay for what you’ve done!” Golldir shouted as the four of them took battle formation. Silence hung in the air for a second before every torch, brazier and floor-mounted fire flared to life with ghastly blue and purple flames. Cast into the eerie light, the dozens of metal coffins that lines the walls of the room reflected them like dull mirrors. This effect only carried further into the room; being a cavern and a tomb, it sloped down, creating the feel of looking into an endless abyss. A menacing laughter echoed out through the dark and the ghostly fire. “What’s the matter you fool? Do you fear the dead? Is that why you’ve brought these hapless travelers to come to your rescue?” it asked with a dark chuckle. “You coward. If your kind were wise like me, you would learn to control the dead. That is the true way. The dead should be made to serve the living, not the other way around.” “I won’t let you get away with this, I’ll send my family back to Sovngarde, and you with them!” Golldir shouted back. “Sovngarde is a myth you s’wit! If you wish to honor your kin so badly, then you can join them in death, and in servitude to me!” With that, several of the coffins burst open, and in the gloomy lighting Golldir’s long dead relatives took up their weapons and advanced. “Hey, you’re fine if we have to slice up your dead family members right?” Fenora asked Golldir. “Well we’re not killing them, they’re already dead.” He reasoned. “Just checking.” And with that she launched forward into the dark and split a skull open, after which the draugr’s eyes stopped glowing and it fell limp like a corpse was supposed to be. She‘d really kicked the hornet’s crypt though, and at once the others were closing in on her with only more spilling out of the coffins every second. Luckily Fenora wasn’t alone, so while she turned her two-hander on the next closest enemy, Lydia had her back. “Try to harm my thane and you’ll have to die again!” she taunted and deflected blows from an axe. Meanwhile, Golldir found himself on his own dueling two of them at once. “Sorry great-uncle Arvis!” he apologized as he sent a rotting head rolling, turning swiftly to block an incoming claymore. “Ah, twice great grandmother Gurtrude, you’ve been practicing your swing I see.” As he managed to get some breathing room, he noticed two more draugr with identical warhammers charging his way with manic grins on their decomposing lips. “Oh gods no, not the twins!” he groaned. Golldir managed to finish off his great great grandmother with a stab to the chest and a quick “Say hi to grandpa for me” before he’d have to face his older cousins that always used to hide rotten fish in his pillowcase, when suddenly the ungodly-horrible-even-in-death twins were engulfed in a wave of fire. they managed to get a few more steps before their flash-dried limbs gave out and the light faded from their eyes as well. “I’ve got your back!” Called the friendlier of the bosmer sisters. “Look out behind you!” He wasn’t quick enough to heed the warning however, and soon found his favorite uncle pegging his back with arrows. When he ducked down, another cone of flame flew from his ally’s open palms, and the archer was turned to little more than dust. “Here, let me see.” Stross said, and yanked out the arrow in his lower back. It hurt like crazy for a second, but then he felt the elf brush her hand over the wound, and the pain was gone like nothing. “Keep it up guys, we’re thinning them down.” Fenora called, from a pile of bodies. Only four of the awakened Draugr were left standing, one missing an arm; only four more to send back to Sovngarde before they dealt with Varls and ended his terrible acts for good. “Enough!” bellowed the necromancer’s voice, and the doors to the lower catacombs flew open with a dramatic plume of purple flame on each side to signal his arrival. He stepped out, wearing a set of bright red robes. “I should have known better than to toy with you. If there’s one thing that makes up for the tiny brains you nord’s have, it’s your ability to hit things. But now, you’ll witness the true extent of my power!” Vals began cackling madly, raising his hands up to the ceiling. The blue and purple flames grew to pillars in their metal housings, and at least two dozen draugr emerged from the catacombs behind him. Then, with his army lined up and ready to attack… They all just sort of stood there for a second. Vals opened up a scroll, and read the ancient incantation inscribed upon the forbidden parchment: “Darkness falls across the land. The midnight hour is close at hand. Creatures crawl in search of blood, and terrorize all of the world. Grizzly ghouls from every tomb are closing in to seal your doom. And though you fight to stay alive your body starts to shiver. For no mere mortal can resist the evil… of the thriller!” With the pact sealed, Vals relinquished his body to a spirit far more powerful. A single draugr stepped up to the front of the pack. Possessed with the power bestowed to it for a single purpose, that draugr opened its mouth, and out came the sound of a fanfare interlaced with a strange reverberating beat. (Psst... click here for the song. ) Vals’ possessed form shuddered and jerked in time to the beat, twitching his head back and forth and making waving, shrugging, clawing motions with his arms, as was mirrored by every draugr in his wake. Then, much to the confusion of our heroes… he began to sing. “It's close to midnight and something evil's lurking in the dark. Under the moo-oon light you see a sight that almost stops your heart.” Fenora, Lydia and Golldir looked to each other in confusion. Whereas Stross just started tapping her toes and nodding her head to the beat as the chorus started. “You hear the door slam and realize there's nowhere left to run.” And on that appropriate que, the door indeed slammed shut behind them, blocking their escape. “All the while, you hear the creature creepin' up behind!” “You're out of time!” shouted Varls as he teleported and burst out behind them, only to port away before they could react. “'Cause this is thriller, thriller night…” As the chorus started up again, Golldir gripped the handle of his war axe, clearly having had enough. “This hollow defilement ends here!” he shouted at the top of his lungs and charged straight at Varls’ possessed, dancing form. Varls noticed this though, and with a still in-step motion, signaled to his undead minions/backup dancers. Still matching the rhythm and dance, a wall of twenty draugr marched forward, getting between Golldir and their master. “Night creatures call and the dead start to walk in their masquerade.” The song continued even as Lydia and Fenora aided Golldir in desperately fending off the small army of dancing, sword swinging draugr. "This is the eeeend of your liiiiiiiife-“ *Shirnk!* The music abruptly ended with a needle scratch from somewhere, and Varls cut his singing to look down at the sword tip jabbing into his midsection. Then slowly, he faced the elf on the handle end, still frozen in lunging position by the five draugr grappling her and trying to hold her back. The dunmer Necromancer’s eyes rolled back into his skull, and he fell backwards, sliding off Fenora’s blade. Fenora let her teeth-gritting snarl relax as the dead lost their animosity and collapsed around her. She breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank gods that’s over.” “AW, but that was so catchy, and cool!” Stross whined as she picked herself out from under a pile of bodies. “I mean how often do you see dancing that well choreographed and on point, from zombies!? Truly something great has been lost this day.” “Yeah, a whole lot of time!” Fenora reminded him of their schedule, “Sorry Golldir, but we really need to go.” “I understand. I need to clean up here, and bury Aunt Agna.” Golldir told them, a slight frown crossing his face at the thought of his recently deceased Aunt. “I wish you luck in saving the world Dragonborn, I hope no more tombs will have to be filled any time soon.” “’Cause this is thriller! Thriller night. And nothin’s gonna save you from the beast about to strike…” Stross sang softly as they walked, though not softly enough for Fenora to not have gotten annoyed with it after the first seven renditions or so. “Stross,” she groaned while the trudged up a series of switch-backs to get up a particularly steep hill. “Can you maybe stop singing until we get to Ivarstead?” Stross shrugged, and they continued in silence... For about two seconds before the changeling started whistling the tune instead. “No whistling either!” Fenora snapped, then hastily added, “And also no humming it, clapping along to its tune, or kazoo-ing it using your nose!” Stross stuck his tongue out at her for shooting down all his alternate ideas. But just as defeat seemed imminent, a new idea struck. She might have banned his musical abilities. But… “Cause this is thriller! Thriller night.” Lydia started singing after a nudge and a devious smile from Stross. Fenora just let out another of her trademark exhausted sighs before reluctantly admitting defeat and joining in. “’Cause this is thriller! Thriller night. ‘Cause I can thrill you more than any ghoul would ever dare to try…” the three of them merrily sang as they kept their road to adventure.