The Elderly Scrawls: Skewrim — The Unmodded Truth

Cicadas, the 30th of Lost Speed, 4E 201

Kharla and the others hung on for dear life as Imdunkariing launched into the air from the balcony of the Big Porch of Dragonsearch. She’d been surprised they’d all agreed to it. Mell wanted the thrill of another ride, no doubt to stave off her depressive thoughts. Draloth had the gold lust in his red eyes, though Kharla wasn’t sure how he intended to bring any loot back with him. Eilgird, of course, performed her duty to her Jarl in representing Whiteruin’s interests in accompanying the Dragonbore. Ti’lief’s motives were less obvious, claiming he’d come along to ‘get some air’, though Kharla suspected he wanted to keep an eye on his business partner to make sure the Dark Elf wasn’t going to make a break for it. And Thral, well he was still happy to go wherever Kharla went.

Kharla’s grip on the large dragon-spine spike in front of her lessened a little as they leveled out, and she started to breathe again.

“You know, this is rather enjoyable!” came Eilgird’s voice from behind.

“Speak for yourself!” came Ti’lief’s. “Try sitting near the tail! And why does Ti’lief always get the back seat anyway?”

As the wings of the dragon beat, they built up speed, flying through the clouds. Kharla glanced down to see glimpses of the Thrill of the World beneath and wondered if Poorthorax could see them. Darleen’s words still troubled her. Was Poorthorax the monster the Blades had painted him to be? Did he need to die? But this wasn’t the time to make such decisions. She had to deal with Alun first.

The mountain gave way to brown and green again as they sped over the Eastmarsh. The view was breathtaking. Everything seemed so small, so inconsequential. Maybe that was why dragons were so arrogant—like the Tallmor. They looked down, saw everyone else as small, of little consequence.

More mountains appeared below them and Imdunkariing stopped beating his wings to soar on the thermals. After a short while Kharla noticed they were gradually beginning to lose altitude. The clouds began to clear as the dragon sailed toward a vast stone temple nestled within the mountains ahead. Skulldunkin.

Imdunkariing beat his wings to stop and momentarily hover. Kharla tightened her grip on the dragon’s spine as the beast descended onto an old dragon burial mound on the very edge of the Temple complex. She and the others clambered down from the dragon’s back. Before them, across a stone bridge, loomed the Temple of Skulldunkin. Upon its top a white light shimmered, reaching up into the sky.

“Up there,” the dragon lifted his snout toward the shimmering light. “That is the portal. The gate to Songunbard. The door to Alun.”

“You won’t take us to it?” asked Kharla.

“No. You might fail, and Alun would know I aided you. I’m not ready to challenge him yet. None of us are. I have fulfilled my promise to bring you here. I can do no more. Now it is up to you. I go no further.” And, with that, Imdunkariing flew off the way he’d come.

“Coward!” muttered Draloth, though not loud enough for the dragon to have heard.

Eilgird had her bow in her hand. “I bet this place is crawling with Daughtr.”

“Probably,” said Kharla as she began to lead them across the bridge.

“This whole place is surrounded by mountains,” remarked Draloth from behind.

“The waterfalls are so pretty!” came Mell’s voice.

Kharla glanced to her left where high waterfalls cascaded down from the mountains into the lake below. She doubted there would be any beauty elsewhere in this place. It had the stench of death about it. Cold, gray death.

“Always there is water,” Kharla heard Ti’lief mutter behind her. “This one will not look. No. He will keep his eyes ahead.”

A low arch, like the one at the start of the bridge, stood at the far end of the stone walkway, but this one had an orange banner hanging from it depicting a cloaked figure with a walking stick in its hand.

The banner of Nektariin, who in life ruled Skulldunkin. As a Founding Member of the Dragon Club, he was gifted with a powerful Gentleman’s Walking Stick by the dragons as well as with immortality. He was also a keen importer of fruit from all across Tamarind.

A scream tore through the quiet from up ahead.

Eilgird yelped. “My bow! It blew right out of my hands!”

At the end of the bridge ran a path and on the left section of it stood a Daughtr. Kharla, already halfway across, raced for the cover of the low arch at the end of the walkway. As she reached the arch she glanced behind her to see everyone had followed, even Ti’lief.

“There’s another one on the right side,” said Eilgird as they huddled together under the arch.

Kharla moved to try and see where the Daughtr were. Neither was too far from the arch. “Let’s rush them. Eilgird, Draloth, Ti’lief —take the one on the right. Me, Mell and Thrall will take the one on the left.”

Eilgird and the others nodded.

Kharla grabbed her axe from her belt. “Right. On my count. One, two, three...Go!”

Thral led the charge to the left but didn’t get very far before the Daughtr screamed again and his warhammer went flying out of his hands over Kharla and Mell’s heads. This, however, didn’t stop the Nord as he knocked the Daughtr to the ground with his momentum and then proceeded to bash its head in with his fists. He seemed very annoyed with the creature for disarming him.

“I think it’s dead,” said Kharla after Thral hit the Daughtr for about the tenth time. “Well, dead as it gets, I mean.”

A strangely shaped white club made of ice flew past Kharla from the other direction and she turned to see the other three facing a Daughtr throwing the icy projectiles toward them. The three had scattered to avoid being hit but Eilgird, sword drawn, had nearly reached the bonewalker. As she drew close, it raised its other hand and in a flash of frosty light summoned a man-like being dressed entirely in white and wearing close-fitting tights. It stared at Eilgird and the others with a frosty and mischievous-looking face before it began to somersault toward them, releasing more of the icy projectiles on each turn. Ti’lief avoided the projectiles with some athletics of his own while the others darted for cover.

“Frost Acrobat!” shouted Mell. “I’ve read about them. Very nimble and persistent, but they vanish if you kill the Daughtr that summoned them.”

“Good to know!” said Kharla as she threw her axe at the undead girl. However, the Frost Acrobat flipped in the air and caught the axe. Then it started juggling the weapon along with two of its ice clubs. Before Kharla could react the Acrobat threw the axe and clubs at Kharla with great speed and skill, and it was all she could to avoid them hitting her head. Even so, her axe bit into her shoulder armor. Her blood began to boil and she had to control the rage in her, the desire to go berserk.

Thral was having none of that. No one touched his Orc lady. He charged the Daughtr in a fury and went down over the edge with the creature. The Acrobat exploded in a burst of icy particles leaving only its tights behind.

“Thral!” shouted Kharla as she and the others ran to the edge. They could see neither the Daughtr nor Thral in the waters below. “Come on, let’s get down there!”

They went through another low arch and found some steps to their right leading down to the lake, but they didn’t get to the bottom of them before something large and loud roared overhead.

“Dragon!” warned Draloth.

A plume of fire came hurtling toward them and they all instinctively jumped into the water, even Ti’lief.

“Buth-ookh kheen mar-oo uhng Skulldunkin. Skulldunkin will be your death!” the golden dragon roared as it landed. It started to walk toward them. “I will eat you as I drink from the lake to cool my throat!”

The winged creature shoved its maw into the water and Kharla dove down. The lake was clear and shallow (and very cold), the bottom made of some kind of shiny stones. No, not stones. Kharla could see what they were now. Skulls. Thousands of skulls. She surfaced at the shock and saw Ti’lief near the steps, up to his stomach in water, not knowing, by the look on his face, whether to risk drowning or risk being eaten. Thankfully, he didn’t have to make that decision because at the moment the dragon opened its mouth to engulf the Khapiit, Thral emerged out of the water and slammed his warhammer into the open mouth of the dragon. The beast seemed to cough, claw at its throat and then drop its head, at which point Thral landed a bone-breaking hit to the beast’s cranium. It didn’t move again.

“I found my warhammer!” said Thral as he turned to the others bobbing in the lake. The rush of wind and colors swirled around Thral again, as they had at Whiteruin’s western watchtower, and flowed into the big Nord. Thral smiled.

There was little time for celebrating, however, as by the time they’d all reached the steps the whole courtyard and complex had come to life, no doubt alerted by the fight with the dragon. Dozens of Daughtr were ambling across the courtyard or down from the walls and walkways of the Temple, at least a dozen Frost Acrobats now sped toward them and, if that wasn’t enough, a silver dragon circled high above as if picking out its first victim.

“Maybe it’s time we tested out Thral’s new and improved Upending Force Shout?” said Draloth, panic in his voice.

There was no time for glowing orbs. Kharla pulled out the feather she’d taken from the Hugraven at Craftspire. She’d taken it for just such an emergency as this. She pointed Thral toward the oncoming onslaught and tickled his nose with the feather.

“Fohs Goh Fah!” sneezed Thral.

Kharla was knocked back into the shallows of the water, along with the rest of them, at the sheer power of the force unleashed by Thral. She watched in awe as the Temple shook and some of the thinner supporting structures gave way. Daughtr and Frost Acrobats alike went flying, high up into the mountain slopes never to be seen again. The dragon whimpered as the blast caught its wings and sent it crashing into the peak of one of the mountains, its limp body crashing down the slopes as the Shout dissipated.

Draloth got back to his feet in the ankle-deep water. “Well, now that’s nothing to be sneezed at, is it?”

Ti’lief groaned.