//------------------------------// // The friendly people of Morthal // Story: Changeling Escapades: Skyrim // by Erised the ink-moth //------------------------------// “If ya look to the left now, you’ll see one the giant’s bonfires. We try to stay clear of giants as much as possible, for obvious reasons. But some farmers living near a giant’s territory will offer an annual sacrifice of livestock in order to keep them pacified. Whether this works or not has never been proven one way or the other, but the superstitious will do as they do. The crude paintings used by giants to mark their territory has its origins in blah blah, blah-blah blah blar..." “Gods this is so BORING!” Fenora screamed in her mind. She stared up at the sky with her head resting back on the wooden railing of the carriage. “Why? Why did I think this would be faster than walking?! We’ve been riding for hours!” “And now we see the peaceful farming town of Rorikstead.” The driver continued his tourguide narration while the cart slowly bumbled along. “Generations ago, this land was barren, but you’d never be able to guess that now. The soil is so fertile in Rorikstead, there are some who have tried to scrape it up and steal it, in hopes of selling it abroad at a high price. Some say that Rorikstead's good fortune was due to the influence of Daedra and blah, blah blah-bluh blah…” “And then there’s this asshole.” Fenora thought to herself, “Man that was way too soft. *ahem* And then there's this ASSHOLE! Seriously, he never shuts his mouth. Never! He’s been babbling on about nearby rocks and random caves this whole time! I’m going to go insane if I have to listen to any more.” Fenora rolled her head lazily. Lydia was sitting across from her as patiently as ever, whereas Stross was sitting closer to the driver. She realized all this was new to him, and it was no wonder he was taking in every little detail, and looking at all the landmarks with rapt attention. But she wished he wouldn't encourage the driver to take even longer. “What a tourist.” She thought. "But at least he's my tourist." “And this is our stop.” The driver said suddenly as the carriage came to a screeching halt. “Wait, what?” Fenora asked. Even though she would gladly take any excuse to get off, she knew they were nowhere near Morthal… at least, she didn’t think so. The driver pointed to a fog-covered area nearby; in stark contrast to the rest of the land, it was full of dead trees and wet ground. “My apologies friends, but I dare not go further than this. The marsh is too treacherous for these wheels.” He explained. “But I got ya as close as I could, Morthal’s about a twenty minute walk that-a-way. Been lots of strange goings on in that place; folk that live out there are none too accepting of outsiders at the best of times, and there's rumor of evil things stalking around at night. So be wary, and don't wander off the road.” Fenora looked towards the marsh as the driver wheeled around and started off the way they came. There was something unnatural about that place, and not just the spooky atmosphere. Something was lurking in that swamp, claiming an unseen dominion over it and wanting to extend its reach through the shadows. She could feel it from here. “Well… let’s get moving.” She said. One foot in front of the other, her companions falling into uneasy and apprehensive step behind her. The more they walked, the softer the ground got, and the road had all but disappeared. The only splashes of color came in the form of clearly poisonous plants: dark purple flowers and ash white fungal pods that only served to give some variety from the dead bushes and grass. Old, twisted trees rose out of the fog every so often, and occasionally the ground would give way to the swamp underneath them. Overall, it was not a pleasant place, and none of our heroes could understand why people would live out here. Twenty minutes till they got to Morthal. For Stross, twenty minutes was way too long to be wandering through this creepy swamp. But by his count they must have been in there more than three times that long- or more by now! It was hard to tell with the way the fog blocked the light. The sun could have been right above them, and still only a trickle of glow would have penetrated the thick, suffocating blanket. It was hard to breathe, and hard to see. The air seemed so much thicker... closer, like it was trying to strangle the life out of- “It is way too claustrophobic in here! I’ll be right back.” the changeling announced before jumping into the air on his wings, desperate to get some fresh air. He heard Fenora call after him, but he couldn’t take not knowing where they were, how far they had to go, and not being able to breathe. Stross took in a deep lungful, and spread his arms open wide as the cool air surrounded him from within and without. He exhaled in a sigh of relief and began to survey his surroundings. The first thing that caught his attention though was right above him: the moon. The moon was out, directly above and lighting up the mist below with an eerie pale light. That meant it was night time. But the sun was barely setting when they entered the forest. How long had they been wandering? Stross looked around some more and finally saw where they had been headed this whole time. Morthal was dark, but not so dark he couldn’t make out the tiny pinprick lights of torch fire. They were so close they could get there in two minutes... less, if they ran. The changeling folded his wings and dove back into the fog to tell Fenora and Lydia the good news. “We’re almost there guys! It’s right ove-“ he stopped himself. “Fenora? Lydia? Where are you?” He looked around, but only dead trees and more fog greeted him. “Fenora? Lydia?” he called their names again, louder this time. Only a dead silence answered. He had lost them. But he had landed right where he left them. Hadn’t he? Stross looked around, frantically trying to remember if this was the same clearing, but he hadn’t noted any landmarks before he darted away. Everything looked the same! Instantly the worst scenarios played out in his mind. What if they had gotten lost in the marsh and he'd never find them? What if they had been dragged away by some horrible monster while he was gone? What if they needed him?! What if he had left the stove on!? “FEEEEENNN!” he screamed, sprinting off in a random direction; he didn’t care which. “Fenora! Lydia! Where are you two?! Make a noise if you hear me! I don’t even know what to scream anymore-“ *Squelch!* Stross looked down. “Oh well that’s just great.” He deadpanned when he saw both his legs sucked knee deep in a pit of mud. *Glorp.* Stross sunk another inch and his eyes went wide. *Blorp.* “HEEEEEEEELLLLLLPP!” he screamed as the swamp started to slowly and mercilessly swallow him whole. *Blurp.* “Lok Vah Koor!” ("Sky Spring Summer" - Clear Skies shout) The fog dissipated, if only for a short time, and Fenora came vaulting over a downed tree trunk. “Stross!” “Fen!” “My thane.” *Glurp.* “Stross, how did you get yourself into this mess?” Fenora asked and unslung her sword from her back. She sunk the blade into the ground and used the handle as an anchor while she reached for Stross. “Grab my hand!” The pit had already swallowed the changeling up to his waist, but Stross grabbed her hand with both of his, and with a bit of straining, both of them made it back to solid ground. Unfortunately, Stross wasn’t the only thing they pulled out of the swamp. "AAAAAAHHHH! Swamp zombies!" Stross shrieked as soon as he saw the body clinging to his leg. The filth-covered corpse turned to face them, trudging right up to them though the muck, and with a gurgling howl it raised a rusted sword above its head. "Fus Ro Dah!" Fenora tried to push it away with Unrelenting Force, but with its legs still knee-deep in the swamp, the zombie barely moved and was still in prime position to strike. "Oh fu-" The zombie's sword was parried easily, and the trio scrambled away from the edge of the sludge pit. Even as they did though, more undead soldiers started to claw their way out of the dead marshes. Clad in the remains of armor from long ago, the wounds of a great battle carved into their bodies, elves and men and orcs, all dead, all rotten... "It's got me!" Lydia yelled as she was suddenly grabbed from behind. Fenora rushed over and punted the zombie off her housecarl with the pommel of her sword, but more were coming, and avenues of escape were disappearing by the second. Somehow the corpses had gotten behind them, either by clawing their way out of the ground or by moving unseen in the swiftly returning fog, and the heroes were becoming encircled. "Forget these things, we've got to get out of here! Stross, did you see Morthal while you were up there? Did you see anything?" "Yeah, it was that way!" Stross said, pointing to what he thought was east. "Or... maybe it was that way? Why did get off the road anyway; we're lost!" Fenora scoffed and brought her sword down of the closest undead, splitting the rusted metal of it's helm as well as its head. They had already wasted their chance to escape, and everywhere they looked there were just more and more dead soldiers. Lydia and Stross drew in close to her and they all stood back to back. "Fine then... we'll just have to fight our way out." Fenora said in disgust. Yet for some reason, she couldn't help but grin. "Welp, another night's patrol, another night's pay." A nord man yawned to himself as he walked around the docks of a small lake towards the sawmill, the same path he traced every day until the dead of night. It was the job he'd taken after all, doing his part to keep the town of Morthal safe. His name was Benor, a simple man with not much to tell about. He wasn't what most would consider smart, but he had a keen pair of eyes and was good in a fight. He didn't have a home, but he took odd jobs to get by, and helped patrol the town so he could sleep at the guard barracks. Morthal as he knew, was no stranger to strangeness, but lately things had happened that put everyone on edge. Every night the noises from the moors grew louder, as though the gates of Oblivion were creaking open under the perpetual fog. Nothing ever ventured close to town, and he secretly thanked the gods for that, but the noises were somehow worse. The not knowing what was out there waiting, what might be stalking your steps at any moment... waiting to pounce... it was enough to make most people paranoid. But Benor was thick-skinned, and had almost gotten used to it. Tonight would be different though. In the distance he saw something burst through the fog, but in the dark he couldn't make it out. Taking his trusty battleaxe in hand, he stomped off to confront whatever it was. Upon getting closer, Benor recognized the figure as an elf woman. He didn't like the look of her one bit. Her clothes were a disheveled mess just like the rest of her, and she gripped her sword in a way that told the world she was ready for a fight. It was possible she was some roaming bandit looking for someone she could easily rob, but something was... off about her. Even bandits avoided the marsh outside of Morthal. Luckily, she didn't seem to have noticed him yet, keeping her eyes on the fog instead. So Benor got near as he dared to get, brought the shaft of his axe up defensively, and made a loud grunt to get her attention. One second the elf was looking over her shoulder to see the edge of his axe leveled at her head, and the next thing Benor knew he was on the ground with a flaring pain through his jaw. He let out a deep groan of pain, and could hear the sound of his broken jawbone grinding in his ears. But over that noise there were voices. "Fen stop, it's a guy!" one yelled. "My thane are you alright?" a woman's voice asked, "Did that man try to harm you?" "Didn't give him the chance." the elf snorted. While Benor lay there clutching his mouth in pain, something knelt beside him. "Hey hey, easy. Lemme see." When he heard the unusually raspy voice again he forced his eyes open, and saw a black creature with pale blue eyes and wicked fangs standing over him. His eyes widened and he tried to scramble away. "Nnh, geh aweh! Monsher!" he slurred while pawing at the ground for wherever his axe had fallen. "No no, wait... here." the creature said and leveled a healing spell to the man's face. As soon as he felt the pain start to fade, Benor relaxed and let the bug-thing do its work. While his jawbone was being mended, he caught sight of the elf again, and a nord woman approaching on his other side. "H-hey. Sorry about that. Coming at me with an axe isn't the best idea." the elf apologized. He had to admit, now that she wasn't trying to kill him, she was actually kind of pretty. The healing light faded and the bug stepped back. Benor got to his feet and stared at the three travelers before him. The elf was holding his axe, only she was offering it back to him rather than using it. He gladly took it back and finally asked, "Who are you, and why have you come to Morthal? And don't lie to me!" The three exchanged a look, and the creature spoke up first. "I'm Stross, a changeling from a world of magic ponies. This is Fen, she's the legendary Dragonborn, destined to defeat Alduin and save the world. And that's Lydia, our housecarl from Whiterun. We're searching for the ancient tomb of Jurgan Windcaller, so we can take it's magic horn back to the Greybeards and gain dragon powers from it." he explained proudly. "Nice to meet you!" Benor just stared blankly at Stross while his companions slapped their palms to their faces. "I... I said don't lie to me." "Stross, you're not helping." Fenora told him. "Says the one that punched him in the face." "I said I was sorry! Look," Fenora cut to the chase, "we just want to stay the night at the inn. Can you point us in the right direction please?" Benor narrowed his eyes at the three of them. They were definitely of a weird sort, and Morthal had enough weirdness as it was. Plus they were outsiders, and in Morthal, outsiders garnered suspicion from everyone. After their first impression, he already had more than enough mixed feelings about them. But he noted that of those mixed feelings, fear wasn't one of them. Finally he decided. "Alright, but I'm gonna be keeping my eyes on you lot. Follow me." Once Stross gotten his disguise in place (and literally begged Benor not to tell anyone), they were led across a stone bridge into the town proper. Morthal consisted of multiple shops and homes around a lake, poised on what little solid ground there was, or more often built on foundations of stone and wood. Benor kept grumbling to himself about this and that along the way, and no one bothered to inquire about anything, especially after their first impression. Benor stopped at the first building they crossed. After leading them up a set of steps to the door, he turned to face them. "Here it is, Moorside Inn. They'll be glad to finally have some customers. Keep out of trouble while you're here, and try to leave as soon as ya can. Trust me." The group nodded and stepped inside, but Benor stopped Fenora just shy of the door. "Hey." he said, clapping a hand on her shoulder. Fenora responded with a level stare. For a second the two just glared each other down before Benor finally spoke. "That was a solid punch back there. I can respect anyone who can hold their own in a fight. If you need help with anything while you're here, just let me know." "Thanks." Fenora nodded. "I'll keep that in mind." After that he turned to leave. Tonight was one of those nights where going to bed was the best decision to make. Inside the inn, they quickly found the place to be vacant of any other guests. The only other person they could see was an orcish bard, sitting in the corner while he jotted down some song lyrics. He noticed them quickly though, and got up to greet them. "Greetings travelers!" he spoke with a jubilant tone that clashed horribly with his deep voice. "I'm uh... I'm afraid Miss Jonna is asleep at this hour. But feel free to choose a room. Just leave some coin at the counter." Shrugging, they made to do just that. But before they could, the bard stopped them again. "W-wait! Might I, the great Lurbuk offer a tune? A song to ease you to slumber under this roof. You'll find I'm a bard of some renown, the greatest musician known all around." "That's alright." Fenora dismissed, "We'll just-" "OOOOOOOHHHH! Ring ring ring ring ring ring ring... Banana Phone!" Lurbuk sang loudly, proudly, and as off-key as one could get. "Ding-dong ding-dong ding... DAnana Phone! It's a real live mama and a papa phone a brother and a sister and a dog-a-phone a grandpa phone and a grandma phone too! Oh yeah! My cellular... banan-ular PHOOOOOONE!" Suddenly a door slammed open and a voice screamed in outrage, "LURBUK!" A redguard woman stomped out of her room still in her evening gown and nightcap. "What did I say about singing at this time of night?! I am trying to sleep!" Lurbuk didn't even flinch at her anger. In fact, he seemed happy to have the attention. "Ah, Miss Jonna. I knew my songs were too good for you to ignore. Why not listen with our new guests, who've just walked through the door?" "What? New gues- Oh!" Jonna finally noticed our heroes through the sleep in her eyes, and wasted no time in welcoming bringing them up to the counter, as well as shooing away her annoying bard. "Sorry about Lurbuk's singing; he couldn't carry a tune with his head in a bucket. So... I'm assuming the three of you be needing rooms tonight? If so it'll be just thirty septims for all of you." Fenora shook her head. "That's fine, we can share a room. Standard fare is ten septims for per night, right?" "For one person, yes. But there are clearly three of you. Therefore thirty septims for the night." Jonna reasoned firmly. Now Jonna was a pretty quick talker, but Fenora had traveled enough of Tamriel to know the innkeeper was just trying to squeeze them for coin. Right now she could feel her 'we're getting ripped off' senses tingling, and fixed the inkeeper with a frown. It was late, they all wanted to rest, and even though Benor told them not to start anything, Fen wasn't one to get willingly swindled. After a tense few seconds, Jonna's expression wavered, and she finally broke. "Look, you three are the first people to stay here in months." she admitted, "No one wants to come near the inn after that fire burned down Hroggar's house. People say they're seein' ghosts! I'm barely making ends meet." "You'll be even worse off if you keep trying to shake down the few customers you have." Fenora scolded, but reached for her coin purse anyway. "Here's thirty-five." After leaving the coins on the counter Fenora promptly turned to the nearest room, motioning for her companions to follow. Jonna was left staring speechlessly at the elf until the door shut behind her and her friends. As Jonna swept the money into a small wooden box under the counter, Lurbuk walked over with his freshly-tuned lute. "With such generosity I think we can agree, that I should sing a few songs to them for free." "Don't you dare!" Jonna snapped. Bright and early the next morning, the group was already getting ready for their expedition to Ustengrav. While Lydia went over Stross's map, Fenora listed off each of their supplies as she laid them out on the bed before her. Six tundra-cotton bandages... Three and a half bottles of healing potion... Five apples- *crunch*... four apples... Dwarven greatsword, twin daggers, Lydia's bow with roughly fifty steel-tipped arrows... She had made it a point to pack light, assuming she could just buy whatever she needed along the way (she had a few hundred septims with her after all). But now she was beginning to wish she hadn't packed quite so light. Until Stross started wondering aloud what trials they might face in Ustengrav, it hadn't occurred to her that her thu'um might not be enough. She'd have to be ready for just about anything, and that meant her friends would need to be too. Lydia already assured her she was had never been more ready. That left her changeling. "Stross, how're your 'love' levels holding up?" Stross had already been absentmindedly peeling back the illusion masking his forearms, letting him check how far his body had deteriorated. It wasn't too bad actually, but all the overcharged spells he'd been using seemed to have finally caught up to him, as tiny craters were beginning to show on his outer scales. It was the fact that it had taken so long to happen that was worrying him. "Fen, I'm scared. I can't remember the last time I fed, so either casting spells doesn't take as much out of me here in Skyrim, or I've been slowly leeching your life away without even realizing it... maybe from others too." Stross shuddered and turned to her, "Fen, Lydia, are you two feeling okay? Any sudden weakness? Throbbing headaches? Trouble seeing straight? What about weird tendencies to bump your shins on coffee tables?!" "Stross, relax. We're both fine." Fenora reassured him. "I don't get it! I should have burned myself out at least twice by now!" "Hey, speaking of burning, I want to stop by that potion shop and pick up a few things before we leave town." Fenora tried to change the subject. She knew she'd have to tell Stross about his soul-eating eventually; it might help him if he knew the reason he wasn't dead yet, but now wasn't a good time. She didn't even know if there was a good time. At that moment her stomach decided to loudly add its opinion as well. "Perhaps we should get something to eat as well, my thane." Lydia toned in, "Breakfast bacon is the most important bacon of the day!" "Good call Lydia. Come on Stross, we'll figure out what's going on with you later." Stross was about to stress the fact that he could potentially be an unchecked parasitic force, slowly sapping away the life essence of anyone near him, eventually dooming the entire world to a horrific demise. But a more important question came to mind. "What's bacon anyway?" The smells of delicious sizzling meat wafted through the air of the inn, yet the only sounds were screams of absolute horror. "You people are monsters!" the disguised changeling shrieked. "But meat is a staple food in Skyrim. In fact it's four fifths of any true nord's diet!" Lydia told him as she carved piece from the pig spit-roasting over the fire. "Are you sure you won't try just one bite, my other thane?" Stross retched at the piece held out to him. "Pigs are intelligent creatures! How can you eat them so casually?" "Uhh, like this." Fenora said and took an exaggerated bite of the delectably charred pork hide. "Oh don't scoff at me!" she said around her mouthful, "Your kind feed on intelligent creatures too don't you?" "That'snotthesame!" Stross snapped back, "We feed on them, okay. We don't rip bloody, greasy chunks out of them and cook them to perfection over a bonfire." "Oh really? So I guess those big pointy teeth of yours are just for show then." Fenora pointed out. "Okay see these babies-" Stross opened his mouth and dropped the illusion hiding his fangs for a second, "are for injecting paralytic venom into our prey so that we can capture and contain them for later." Fenora shuddered, remembering his victims at the barrow when he lost his mind, the bandits pale faces frozen in terror. "Yeesh, sorry I asked." "You're forgiven." Stross said and gave her a hug from behind. "You filthy meat-eater." Suddenly a sense of cold washed over Stross, and a new voice spoke from behind him. "Well well, isn't this a lively bunch? We don't get many visitors to our little town. It's so... nice to see some new blood around here." Stross turned around, and a pair of bright red eyes met his. Everything about this new woman screamed 'sinister seductress'. She had dark brown hair that fell just past her waist, and her dress was cut in such a way as to expose as much of her shoulders, back and cleavage as possible. But it went further than that, her half-lidded eyes ringed with dark mascara stared at them as though she were a wolf sizing up its prey, and even though she stood a respectable distance from them, she had an intimidating presence that felt like she were mere inches from one's face the whole time. Stross saw the most worrying thing about her though, namely the ambient magic aura that only he could see, twisting around them and subtly influencing their feelings towards her. She noticed Stross staring, and turned her eyes to focus on him. "Mmm, and aren't you the most interesting of the bunch. My name is Alva... in case you were wondering." she said, draping her arms across his shoulders and leaning down so that their lips were nearly touching. "Uh...I need an adult." Stross whimpered. "I am an adult." Alva whispered and brought herself even closer, practically grazing her lips on his nose. "Fen!" Stross jerked away, turning to see Fenora and Lydia sitting there silently with a glazed look in their eyes. His eyes widened when he realized it, the same trick he'd seen used time and again. He quickly darted his gaze to both Lurbuk and Jonna, seeing that they were in the same state. "Y-you're hazing their minds. What do you want? Let them go now!" he snarled. Alva sucked her teeth in distaste at this. "Now now, there's no need to be so rude, little boy. I merely wanted to have a conversation with you... in private." Stross frowned, but found himself trapped. If she could filter people's minds to make them ignore her, it was possible she could do worse. "What is it you want to say?" he asked. Alva slinked back, immediately losing her flirtatious attitude and becoming steely and cold. "I'll cut the formalities. I know what you are; you were hardly subtle about hiding it just now. As a fellow life-drinker I will give you a warning, but only one. This town belongs to us. You will be content with the two mortals already in your thrall and leave this place." Alva didn't even wait for Stross to nod before she left the inn, slamming the door behind her. A second later, everyone shook themselves from their daze, and life carried on. "I'll have you know there's nothing filthy about eating meat. It's delicious." Fenora picked up the conversation as though no time had passed all. "And besides, not all of us have the luxury of being able to drink soul sweat in order to sur... vive..? Stross?" "Fenora? Are you sure there are no other changelings in Skyrim?"