The Elderly Scrawls: Skewrim — The Unmodded Truth

Marmaladas, the 18th of Lost Speed, 4E 201

Kharla and Thral stood before the great doors of Dragonsearch again. Kharla had left Draloth, Ti’lief, and Mell to see to Bessie and sort out the Mannered Bear business. “Right, let’s push these open more gently this time, Thral.”

Thral complied and the doors swung open and they stepped inside, the doors closing behind them, either from some mechanism or the guards pushing them shut again.

“Wait!” said the guard to their left, putting her hand to the hilt of her sword. “I know you!”

Kharla froze. “Had word reached Whiteruin of the description of the circus fugitives from Helga?”

The female guard laughed. “Just kidding!” She crossed her arms and took up her guard position again. “Move along, citizen.”

“Very funny!” muttered Kharla.

The guard’s face, hidden behind the visor of her helm, turned back toward Kharla. “Hey, cut a girl some slack. Have you any idea how boring it is to stand at a guard post for four hours twice a day?”

“You weren’t here last time we came,” Kharla said.

“No, this position was only created yesterday. Seems someone burst into the hall and completely incapacitated the guard when the door smashed into the poor fellow. Broke his nose or something. So now we have two guards at the door and tighter hinges. I was taken off wall duty and reassigned up here!”

“That’s nice,” Kharla said.

“Not really. Much more boring here. No scenery to look at. No thrill from the constant threat of a bandit attack or the wall caving in under your feet. Although there’s the Jarl’s children to liven things up. One of the boys insists on punching the guards and calling it training, the other boy wants everyone to lick his boots the same way he says everyone licks his father’s boots, and the girl—well, a prime candidate for one of those Daughtr bonewalkers, if you ask me.”

“Well, at least it’s warmer inside,” Kharla added.

The guard sighed. “You’d think so, but the warmth from the fire pit doesn’t reach down here. There’s a right draft under the door, not that that matters seeing as people keep coming in and out all the time. Especially the Commander of the Guard. Up and down here all the time. Even the Wind District doesn’t seem to slow him down.” The guard looked straight ahead. “Oh no, here they come again.”

Three children, all dressed in red clothing, ran toward the visitors.

“Look!” said the oldest boy, pointing at Kharla. “She’s all green!”

“And look at the size of her friend! His leg is wider than me!” said the girl.

The smallest boy punched Thral in the leg. The Nord looked down at him. Then the older boy kicked him. Thral giggled. The boy kicked him again, harder this time.

Thral laughed. “Stop! It tickles!”

Then the girl grabbed a broom from a servant who was sweeping the floor and smashed it into Thral’s shin. The broom handle broke in two, the girl looked up, Thral roared with laughter, and all three children skedaddled.

The guard giggled. “You should come again.”

Kharla and Thral didn’t see the Jarl, Aerolith, or Preventus in the hall so headed straight to Falconscar’s office. There they found the wizard in discussion with a hooded woman dressed in leather armor. A Breton from what Kharla could see of her. They were looking at a book that lay open on the table before them.

“You see? The terminology is clearly First Era or even earlier. I'm convinced this is a copy of a much older text. Perhaps dating to just after the Dragon War. If so, I could use this to cross-reference the names with other later texts,” said the mage.

The Breton nodded. “Good. I'm glad you’re making progress. My employers are anxious to have some tangible answers.”

“Oh, have no fear. The Jarl himself has finally taken an interest, so I'm now able to devote most of my time to this research,” said the court wizard.

“Time is running out, Falconscar, don't forget. This isn’t some theoretical question. Dragons have come back.” The Breton’s voice was hard and commanding. So different to Mell’s, thought Kharla.

“Yes, yes. Don’t worry. Although the chance to see a living dragon up close would be tremendously valuable... Now, let me show you something else I found... very intriguing... I think your employers may be interested as well...”

The Breton spotted the Orc and Nord. “You have visitors.”

“Hmm?” The wizard turned to see Kharla and Thral. “Ah, yes, the Jarl’s proteges! Back from Teak Halls Barrow? You didn't die, it seems, like the other three we sent.”

Kharla frowned. They weren’t the first? This better be a good spear, for all the trouble it had been.

“Ah!” Falconscar exclaimed as he looked at what Thral had under his arm. “The dragonstone of Teak Halls Barrow!"

Thral handed the tablet to the wizard and the latter’s face turned from wonder to surprise to horror as he fell backwards and was pinned to the floor by the weight of the tablet. Kharla and the Breton lifted the stone between them and placed it on the table. The Breton was stronger than she looked.

The wizard got up and dusted himself down. “Seems you are a cut above the usual brutes the Jarl sends my way. My... associate here will be pleased to see your handiwork. She discovered its location, by means she has so far declined to share with me.”

Falconscar looked at the stone and then at the Breton “So your information was correct after all. And we have our friends here to thank for recovering it for us.”

Friends? Thought Kharla. It was ‘brutes’ a moment ago.

The Breton looked at Kharla and the strongman. “You went into Teak Halls Barrow and got that? Nice work.” She turned back to Falconscar. “Send me a copy when you’ve deciphered it.”

“Falconscar!” shouted Aerolith as she ran to the entrance from the hall. “Falconscar, you need to come at once. A dragon’s been sighted nearby.” She looked at Kharla and Thral. “You should come, too.”

“A dragon! How exciting! Where was it seen? What was it doing? How big is it? What color? Does it breathe fire? How many horns does—”

“I'd take this a bit more seriously if I were you,” Aerolith interrupted. “If a dragon decides to attack Whiteruin, I don't know if we can stop it.”

“What about my spear?” asked Kharla.

“Never mind about that now. Let’s go.”

Falconscar followed Aerolith and Kharla and Thral followed the wizard. They ascended some steps at the back of the hall to a raised area before some other great doors. A large table with a map of Skewrim dominated the room. The Jarl sat on one of the chairs, his feet propped up on the table. A guard stood before him.

“So, Aerolith tells me you came from the western watchtower?” the Jarl said to the guard.

“Tell him what you told me. About the dragon,” Aerolith said to the guard.

“Dragon?” the guard asked.

“Yes, the big lizard with wings,” Aerolith explained.

“Oh, that…yes, that’s right. We saw it coming from the south. It was fast... faster than anything I've ever seen. Faster than how quickly Hiki spends his wages at the end of the week, and I tell you that’s going some.”

“Who’s Hiki?” asked Baldgoof. “No, never mind. What did this dragon do? Is it attacking the watchtower?”

The guard shook his head. “No, my lord. It was just circling overhead when I left. I never ran so fast in my life... I thought it would come after me for sure.”

“Good work, son,” the Jarl said. “We’ll take it from here. Head down to the barracks for some food and rest. You’ve earned it.”

“Oh, that’s very kind of you, my lord. I already did that before I came to see Aerolith, but won’t say no to a second meal.” And, so saying, the guard left.

The Jarl yawned. “Aerolith, you’d better gather some guardsmen and get down there. Maybe take some who are a bit more enthusiastic than that one.” He indicated his head in the direction of the departing guard.

“Maybe,” began Aerolith, “if you set a better example, my Jarl…All this slouching.”

“This again?” the Jarl shook his head. “I’ve told you. I have a bad back. It’s all right for you short people! Try being tall!”

Aerolith rolled her eyes. Red eyes didn’t look good being rolled, thought Kharla. Red eyes didn’t look good at all, unless they were shut. “I've already ordered my men to muster near the main gate.”

The Jarl nodded. “Good. Don't fail me.” He turned to Kharla and Thral. “I want you to go with Aerolith and help her fight this dragon. You survived Helga, so you have more experience with dragons than anyone else here.”

“But what about my spear?” Kharla asked.

“We shall attend to that if—I mean when—you return.” Baldgoof turned his head back toward Aerolith. “One last thing, Aerolith. This isn’t a death or glory mission. I need to know what we’re dealing with. Come back alive, or at least make sure one person comes back alive.”

“Don’t worry, my lord. I’m the very soul of caution,” she said as she took off down the stairs, missed a step, tumbled to the bottom and uttered something about a broken broomstick followed by a Dark Elf expletive that Kharla had never heard before.

It was the Jarl’s turn to roll his eyes. “I hope you’ve not hurt your back, Aerolith!”

Kharla told me the word, as best she could remember it and, yes, it really was very rude so I left it out. And I’m not for censorship (as you can tell from Kharla’s constant badmouthing of my and other Dark Elves’ eye color, which, for the record, is both unique and beautiful). Nonetheless, it’s deeply concerning that one of my fellow Dark Elves, and one in such high position as Housecarl to the Jarl of a chief city of Skewrim no less, should debase herself with such language. I daresay, had those around her spoken our language, there would have been a lot of red faces around if not red eyes.

Aerolith recovered from her fall swiftly and darted off at a speed that Taelor the Swift really should have at least matched to be worthy of his epithet. Daughtr, after all, weren’t known for their speed. Kharla ran after her, a capable runner, and Thral’s jogging speed was all that was necessary for him to keep up with all the short-legged people around him.

Through the clouds and wind they followed the Dark Elf, and then down the back of the city to the guardhouse at the front gate where several guards had gathered. Here Aerolith stopped to address them.

“Here’s the situation,” she began, pausing to recover her breath. “A dragon’s attacking the Western Watchtower.”

The guards gasped.

“A dragon!” a couple of the men said in disbelief.

“Now we’re in for it!” said the largest (and more believing) guard.

“You heard right! I said a dragon! I don’t much care where it came from or who sent it. What I do know is that it’s made the mistake of attacking Whiteruin!”

“But Housecarl…” began the large guard, “how can we fight a dragon?”

“That’s a fair question. None of us have ever seen a dragon before, or expected to face one in battle. But we are honour-bound to fight it, even if we fail. This dragon is threatening our homes... our families. Could you call yourselves Nords if you ran from this monster? Are you going to let me face this thing alone?”

The four guards huddled together and whispered to each other while Aerolith tried to hear what they were saying. Eventually, the guards stood back to attention again.

“No, Housecarl!” they said in unison.

“We're so dead...” muttered the shortest guard.

Aerolith climbed a little way up the steps to the Drunken Hitman tavern and turned, raising her fist and looking to the sky. “But it’s more than our honor at stake here. Think of it—the first dragon seen in Skewrim since the last age. It may be five times faster than a horse, its claws six times sharper than a Khapiit’s, eight times bigger than a mammoth, ten times stronger than a giant, its skin twenty times harder than a Madcrab’s, and it may breathe a hundred times more fire than a fire-eater, but the glory of killing it is ours. If you’re with me! Now what do you say? Shall we go kill us a dragon?”

The guardsmen huddled together again while the Housecarl waited. After a few moments, they separated again and the larger one spoke. “We were wondering if perhaps we might need more than four of us?”

“All right, we’ll pick up some more bodies on the way. Now, let’s move out!”

Kharla and Thral followed the Housecarl and her men out the gate and over the rickety drawbridge. Kharla watched as a piece of the wall crumbled to their right as they jogged past, leaving a guard dangling from a wooden beam. As they headed toward the outer gateway Aerolith called out to a female guard who was passing in the opposite direction.

“Hey, you! Join us. We’re off to kill us a dragon!”

“But it’s my break,” the woman said, holding up a small cloth bag. “I’ve not eaten yet!” Kharla recognised the voice. It was the guard who’d spoken to her at the door to Dragonsearch.

“Come with us and I’ll make sure you can take all the breaks you want!” the Housecarl shouted back.

“Well, that’s a promise I could take advantage of—and there are witnesses,” the woman mused. “I’m right behind you!” she shouted as she joined them running alongside Thral and Kharla.

“Hello, again!” the guard said. “I wanted to thank you for scaring off the children. They never pestered us again for the rest of our watch. I never learned your names?”

“Kharla,” Kharla said. “And this is Thral!”

“Nice to meet you both. I am Eilgard the gird—uh, I mean I am Eilgird the guard. Would you like a plum?”

***

The tower looked beaten and broken, collapsed in places as they stopped a hundred paces away to survey the situation.

“Sure looks like it took a pasting from that dragon,” said Kharla as Thral bit into his third plum.

Aerolith frowned. “No, that’s the way it normally looks.”

They moved closer and Kharla saw scorched grass and stone and, here and there, fires still burned.

The Housecarl turned to her men (and Eilgird). “No signs of any dragon right now, but it sure looks like he’s been here. I know it looks bad, but we’ve got to figure out what happened—and if that dragon is still skulking around somewhere. Spread out and look for survivors. We need to know what we’re dealing with.”

Aerolith drew her weapon and everyone else did the same. They spread out as they moved forward. As some of them reached the broken stone walkway that led to the tower’s entrance, a guard appeared from the tower. He was bent low and looked afraid.

“No! Get back! It’s a ruse. It’s still here somewhere! Hoki and Poki just got grabbed—they just put their right foot out when they thought it had gone, and before they could put their feet back in again the dragon took them! Last time I saw poor Hoki the dragon was shaking him all about!”

“Guardsman! What happened here? Where’s this dragon? Quickly now!” the Housecarl commanded.

“I don't know!”

Suddenly there was the sound of large leather wings beating in the sky above, coming closer and closer.

“Oh no, here he comes again. Toeless save us!” the guard said as he disappeared back into the tower. “Make it go away!”

“Find cover and make every arrow count!” shouted Aerolith.

Kharla watched as the beast flew overhead. Though of lighter color and smaller size than the dragon at Helga, the creature was still vast and terrifying. Kharla and the guards shot their arrows but few found a mark, and those that did bounced off more than they stuck.

As the dragon swept down toward the Housecarl, the latter raised her arms. “Neverfar guide me!” A few small meteorites descended from the sky, pummeling the creature but though they broke its attack the fiery projectiles did little to harm the dragon.

Lord Inaugural Neverfar was a famed and heroic king of Marrowind who became the patron saint of House Redolent among my people, the Dark Elves. Known for starting new things, always being close by when you needed him, and for an extensive range of high-end perfumes targeted at the discerning (that is, wealthy and vain) Dark Elf.

The creature landed near the tower, snapping up one of the guards in its maw.

“This is fun, isn’t it?” Eilgird stood near Kharla as they both fired their bows at the dragon. “Better than my boring guard post.”

“Watch out!” Kharla warned, knocking Eilgird to the ground as a blast of fire ripped through the air where they had been standing just a heartbeat ago.

“Oh my,” said Eilgird. “Did you feel the heat from that blast? I could do with something like that at my drafty guard post.”

The dragon started to walk toward them but then stopped and looked behind. Thral had grabbed its tail. The creature roared and then spun around to bite the Nord, but as it did so its tail moved and the Nord with it. Kharla stood and watched as the dragon chased its tail until it stopped and blinked, a dazed look on its face. Then Thral brought his warhammer down on the beast’s head, crushing it.

“Let’s make sure that overgrown lizard is really dead,” said Aerolith as she came running up to the dragon. “Good work everyone!”

As everyone surrounded the dragon something started to happen to the creatures. Its body began to glow and its skin began to dissolve, hide floating off like autumn leaves from a tree.

“Everyone get back!” the Housecarl shouted.

Kharla kept her ground right by the dragon and watched as lights began to gather and swirl around. She felt a wind about her, she felt a power she had not felt before. It gathered and focused and then poured itself into Thral who stood there open-mouthed right next to her.

The light and rush of power dissipated and the large guard looked at Thral. “I can’t believe it! You’re…Dragonbore…”

“Dragonbore? What are you talking about?” said a second guard.

A third guard with a singed uniform came running up. “That’s right! My grandfather used to tell stories about the Dragonbore. Those born with the Dragon Blood in ‘em. Like old Toby Septic himself.”

The second guard tilted his head. “I never heard of Toby Septic killing any dragons.”

“There weren't any dragons then, idiot,” the large guard said. “They’re just coming back now for the first time in... forever.”

The singed guard looked back at Thral. “But the old tales tell of the Dragonbore who could kill dragons by boring them to death and then stealing their power. You must be one!”

“There’s one way to find out,” added the large guard. “Try to Shout...that would prove it. According to the old legends, only the Dragonbore can Shout without training, the way the dragons do.”

Thral stared at the guards, a vacant expression on his strong, angular face. He opened his mouth and shouted “Thral!” rather weakly. He massaged his throat with his hand. “Thral not like noise. Thral’s throat delicate. Needs more ale. Thral not shout again.”

A helmetless guard turned to the Housecarl. “What do you say, Aeorlith? You’re being awfully quiet.”

“Yeah, come on, Aerolith, tell us, do you believe in this Dragonbore business?” said Eilgird.

Eilgird turned to Kharla and whispered, “This should stir things up a bit.”

Aerolith paused and looked at the dragon. Only its skeleton remained. “Hmph. Some of you would be better off keeping quiet like Thral here rather than flapping your gums on matters you don’t know anything about. Here’s a dead dragon, and that’s something I definitely understand. Now we know we can kill them. But I don’t need some mythical Dragonbore. Someone who can put down a dragon is more than enough for me.”

The large guard put his battleaxe into its holder on his back. “You wouldn't understand, Housecarl. You ain’t a Nord.”

Kharla got the distinct impression that one of the games the guards liked to play was to see if they could rile up Aerolith. Kharla suppressed a grin.

Aerolith’s voice was indignant. “Why, I’ve been all across Tamarind. I’ve seen plenty of things just as outlandish as this. I’d advise you all to trust in the strength of your sword arm over tales and legends.”

The Dark Elf turned his attention to Kharla and Thral. “That was the hairiest fight I’ve ever been in, and I’ve been in more than a few. I don’t know about this Dragonbore business, but I’m sure glad you’re with us. I know the Jarl owes you a spear, Orc. Make sure he gives it to you. And something for your big Nord friend too. He deserves it. I’m going to stay here for a while and see if I can do something with the Whiteruin Guard uniforms I’ve spotted in the remains of this dragon. We’re in short supply so any I can reclaim will help out. Can’t have guards walking around with incomplete uniforms—the Impeccable officers here would take us to task. Maybe you could tell the Jarl what happened?”

“Hey!” came a voice from a window high up in the tower. It was the watchtower guard. “Is it safe to come out yet? Has it gone?”