Boots on the Ground Entry Two

Entry Two: Bleakrock

“Good to see you awake and well.” Said the armed and armored Redguard. She was not a bad looking woman though her eyes and manner suggested her military career had not been an easy one. I wondered briefly if she had anything to do with my pleasant dream.

“I would be better if I knew where I was, and who you are.”

“I am Captain Rana, and you are on Bleakrock.”  It seems I had been rescued from the beach by one called Holsgar.  I owed them, I supposed, so I asked what I could do to repay them.  Some of her people had gone on patrol and were now missing, she told me.  That alone suggested that the island may be in some danger. One went to a mine northwest, another to a cave further north from there, and the last to a barrow to the northeast; and of those I chose to go to Skyshroud Barrow as I had already faced undead and had handled them fairly easily.  It was likely that I would check on the others as well, but that was a place to start.

I must have been a bard at one time in my life before as I seem drawn to books and the written word.  Many people owned books, but few could read, so I used my ability to read to share some things I had read orally in stories and tales.  I found I could not pass a bookshelf without seeing if perhaps there might be a new tale, new lore, or a text that would either help me, or add to my repertoire.  I went downstairs and found a couple of bookshelves that I went through.  On a desk I supposed Captain Rana used, I saw a letter and a journal.  As most people could not read, I guess Captain Rana felt there was no reason not to just leave them open on the desk.  The letter was to Captain Rana from a superior, and it seemed she had been banished to this post for some indiscretion.  The journal gave a few quick notations of events, the last of which was my discovery on the beach.  I was dry when they found me, though they assumed I had ‘washed up’, and Jana found it odd.  There was no mention of the Prophet.  It would do me no good to mention him or the events of the Wailing Prison, as they would sound fantastic even to me.  Best to let them understand it as they might.

As I stepped out into the village I whispered a prayer of thanks as right before me there was a huge covered market area.  I made it my first stop.  One of the very first booths I found was a banker.  It was time for me to test the validity of my dream.  The banker did not question who I was but proffered a tome and bade me touch it.  Revealed to me was a long inventory list at the bottom of which gave a total of gold available.  I was staggered by the amount as well as the length of the list, and momentarily lost contact with the tome.

“Are you alright, deary?”  She asked, concerned.

“Um, yeah.  It’s just … been a while.”  I stepped up again and placed my hands on the tome.  I found also a wealth of materials available to me, to go with the weapons and armor, all of which were way beyond my ability to make use of.  A compartment was added to my own bag that could access the shared materials from any crafting station, and to which I could add materials as I collected them, or as I rendered them from weapons and armors that I deconstructed.  Penny had not been entirely a dream.  I withdrew a miniscule amount of gold.  Actually it was more gold than I had ever held, or indeed had passed through my hands in my previous life.  However, my sisters would likely never miss it considering the total.  My purse heavy with gold I decided it was best that I see what I could do about my attire.

I found first a backpack vendor.  I increased the size of my backpack as I have often found that I run out of room quickly as I am a bit of a pack rat.  I was shocked at the expense but I felt it would be gold well spent.  From there I made the round of the vendors.  I examined and even tried, or tried on, many of the items for sale, trying to find those things that I felt suited me.  Having the gold in my purse to do so didn’t mean that I was eager to part with it.  I also found crafting tables that also bore texts on basic crafting and found that at least the basics for making most things came easily to hand, and with the wealth of materials my sisters and I had on hand, decided that perhaps making my own gear would be best.  I found cloth felt the most right as I had examined various armors, heavy cloth to be sure, not simple shirts or pants, not what one normally consider ‘armor’ but protective nonetheless.  Yet the gloves and boots needed to be of sterner stuff so those I made of leather.  I refused to allow blisters to form on either my feet or hands.  When it came to weapons, I had a more difficult time making a decision, as most weapons felt almost right.  It wasn’t until I found a staff of flame that I felt I had found a perfect fit, and I crafted one that felt well in my hands.  Being a bard and in the public eye, besides being a little vain, I went to the dye table.  There were several color choices available and of them I chose my colors carefully.  Red was quite my color, with black as well which made the red really stand out to good effect, then I chose gold for the accents.  Not willing to put on a free strip show for the villagers I sought out a more private location to change into my new garb.  Looking in the mirror, I was quite pleased with the image, though I suppose almost anything would have looked better than the rags and piecemeal items in which I had arrived on Bleakrock.  The rags were useless so I dumped them in the trash, and I used the remaining items to practice deconstruction, though in the end they rendered little.

Why are cooks so unreasonable?  While I had found a couple of recipes for drinks, one a quite refreshing tea, one does not live on tea alone.  The cooks’ offerings were alright, but being a picky eater, I decided I’d make my own food, thank-you very much.  I found in his stores a recipe that sounded good, if I could convince him to part with it.  I faced my first battle since arrival though it was one of insults and cajoling.  The price he wanted was ridiculous, but with some initial trading of casual insults I reduced that amount to merely exorbitant.  Then things got nasty before I got the price down to usurious, and it almost came to blows before I finally got it for a price which was expensive, but would allow me to leave with my dignity somewhat intact.  After making up some food and drink, I made my way to the alchemy station and from the instructions in the basic text, threw together some healing and magicka regeneration pots.  It had taken some time but at long last, I felt ready to tackle whatever Bleakrock Island had to offer.

I took the road east of the main village, though I hesitate to call it a road, as it was more a cart path and less than that in some places.  Somewhere that direction was Darj and the Skyshroud Barrow. It was slow going as I often left the track when I spotted a crafting material, whether it be jute weed that could be refined to make cloth, or rune stones that were used in enchanting, a craft I had not yet tried.  I remembered the words of Penny: Take what you need and replace as you can.  Bleakrock was more or less aptly named, cold, rocky, and bleak, and it had begun to snow to add to it.  Wind whipped through the fir trees with an icy edge though it stopped just short of being completely miserable.  I was quite happy to spot a campfire in the distance and made my way to it.  There was a tent nearby as well as an injured Nord sitting near the fire, and as I warmed myself I found his name was Hoknir, and he had quite a horrific tale to tell about how he had injured his foot.

I was, or still was, a bard so I know how a story can grow with the telling.  He painted a picture of a giant bat which he had named Deathclaw that he had faced in an epic and fierce battle.  From his description this creature could eat people whole and he was lucky that he had escaped with only a chewed foot.  I had seen bats before, who hadn’t?  They were no larger than my hand and ate insects as they fluttered about in the early evening.  I was quite certain that he had disturbed a colony of bats, and frightened, had ran madly away, stepping in a bear trap or something in his rush.  Besides, everyone know how Nords loved their drink and he had most likely been drunk at the time. He asked me to take revenge on the beast for him, and for the safety of the island.  He said that along with a reward I could keep anything I found from his gear that had fallen from his pack which had left a trail I could follow back to the beast.  He suggested that I use some game to tempt the beast from its lair.  I assured Hoknir that I was up to the task and that I would bring back evidence that the deed was done.  A short ways away from his camp, there indeed began a trail of odds and ends, some of which found their way into my pack.  The woods in the area were infested with wolves, which if they had attacked me in a pack, would have most assuredly taken me down.  Instead one or two would dart from hiding at a time which were quickly dispatched with a burst from my flame staff.  I expected that they would be more of a problem than some little bat.   Sure enough a cave mouth emerged from the surrounding rocky hill.  Judging from the remains of a couple of unfortunate deer, I suspected the wolves had used the cave as well as the bats to shelter from the bitter winds.  As Hoknir had suggested, I took a choice bit of venison and placed it on pile bones near the mouth of the cave to tempt out this imagined vicious giant bat.

I had no more than settled back a little ways away when I heard a heavy beating of wings from the cave, not many little wings as I had suspected.  The bat that emerged was indeed giant, huge, with the body the size of a man, and wings that wide and broad.  A thrill of fear ran down my back, but instead of cowering, I fired a blazing fireball at the beast.  It hurt the beast and turned its attention from the venison to the sweeter meat of a Breton Dragonknight.  I cast the fist which slammed it to the ground and halted its advance for just a moment, and followed it with another burst from my staff.  Even though it was afire now, it wasn’t grounded long, nor was it deterred from attacking.  A horrific screech froze the blood in my veins as I had to fight my instincts to cower or run.  Instead I cast my armor spell that I hoped would provide some additional protection and wound up a greater blast of fire from my staff.  Good thing I had, as even though my blast caught it squarely, I was in reach of its claws, claws that tore away at my magical shield.  I cast the first spell again hoping to slam it to the ground to buy space and time and back peddled.  Desperately I took another long wind up, knowing that it would be this attack that would either end it, or it would end me.  Flame enveloped the giant form and I shielded my eyes waiting for the killing blow that would end me.  It never fell.  Instead the giant bat Deathclaw lay in a smoldering mound, twitching as the flames burned the last of its life away.  I moved behind some rocks and dropped my pants, relieving my bladder which had threatened to shame me during the fight, and took a moment to gather my scattered wits.  I pulled up my pants and checked myself over and found myself no worse for wear.  Deathclaw wouldn’t terrorize anything again and I took one of the long sharp claws to show Hoknir.

Hoknir was still at his fire as I returned tossing him the claw.  He gave me some gold and a family shield as a reward, along with his heartfelt thanks.  I grunted, vowing to take the next tall tale to heart, better to over prepare than to underestimate.  I suggested to him that it would be best if he returned to Captain Rana and the village as soon as possible and he agreed.

ForestLyle