Prologue
14th of Sun’s Dusk, 4E 203
Bein’ dropped on a top of some gods forgotten mountain isn’t really fun. But I deserved it, I really tusked up back there. Quite surprised Broody just didn’t tear me limb from limb, Grulmar thought, closing his eyes. As soon as the darkness took over, he realised it wasn’t such a good idea to close them. Everything spun with new intensity, his stomach getting ready to jump out of his throat along with all its contents - more food for the fish.
Getting out of that mountain and then to Windhelm took almost all of Grulmar’s strength, but he managed to get there with all fingers still attached to his limbs - though the frostbite couldn’t be blamed for not trying to take them. Windhelm wasn’t his first choice, not with the bounty on his head from the dragon attack, but he didn’t have much choice and at least he still had some skills. He managed to sneak into the city during night and holed up down in the Cornerclub.
Try to spend a month hidin' from authorities while ya have to share a room with a nutjob like that old Telvanni enchanter. Over time ya basicaly start beggin' for someone to lock ya up in prison or somethin'.
So he left Windhelm after spending some time licking his own wounds. Then he got on a boat and never looked back. Oh come now, ya tusker, aren't ya forgettin' somethin'? Like the fact that Tall Man wasn't overly happy about ya leavin'? Yes, Tall Man from his dreams tried to stop him, force him to go in a different direction, the same way he took over almost a year ago in Windhelm too. He tried to take over. But he couldn't...can't. Not anymore. Something in Grulmar was able to respond this time, to push back. The power...the more ya have, the less hold He has over ya…
Then he gagged and he had no other choice but to hover his head over a bucket and throw up all what was left in his already nearly empty stomach. Disgusting green liquid poured from his mouth and his eyes began watering. When he was finished, he leaned heavily against the boat's side and wiped his mouth. As if fear of heights wasn't enough… Now I'm sea-sick too. Lovely… All that bouncing around and the nasty salty air - aye, definitely not good.
“How's our Orc princess?” sounded a voice above him and Grulmar’s eyes squinted towards a blond-haired Nord standing in front of him.
“I tuskin' hate boats,” he growled as he spit into the bucket, trying to get that nasty taste out of his mouth - though when he accidentally looked at the bucket's contents, he nearly threw up again. He took a deep breath and focused on the ugly face of the Nord standing in front of him. When ya look at him from down here, his hair and beard actually have a similar color to that shit that just came out of ya… The hair wasn't exactly blond, more like yellow mixed with some green.
“For the last time,” Gjalund Salt-Sage raised his finger in warning, “The Northern Maiden’s a ship, not a boat. Does she look like a boat to you?” He extended his arm and drew a big circle around himself, pointing at the deck of Northern Maiden.
“Everythin is a tuskin' boat to me,” Grulmar murmured. “And why the Oblivion do ya insist on callin' it “she”? It's just few planks nailed together with one tiny hole bein' able to send it all under water and we would all drown.”
Gjalund frowned at that and shook his head. “Aren't we a ray of sunshine today, eh? To be honest, I'm glad I'm going to be rid off you soon. Haven't had such a lousy passenger yet.”
“And I haven't got such lousy boat-captain yet either,” Grulmar retorted, rubbing his eyes. “So trust me, I'm lookin' forward to getting out of this leaky piece of rotten wood too. How long is it goin' to take anyway? Are we close?” It's not like I'm not enjoyin' this trip on a deck of some ship but...I'm not.
Gjalund turned his head to the side, looking to the front of the ship and chuckled. “If you actually got your head out of that bucket, you would see we are actually at our destination.”
Grulmar blinked several times and frowned. He followed Gjalund's gaze and saw a coast slowly approaching. He shook his head and used the handrail to get himself back on his feet and study at the place he was heading to.
It was an island, ugly as tusk, with the entire coast covered in ash and burnt trees. Strange birds that looked terns patrolled the barrier between land and sea and it looked to Grulmar that very few things seemed to be capable to survive in that wasteland but proof of the opposite was directly in front of him. They had just passed a small island with a beacon made of grey stone standing on it. Two figures clad in a strange yellow-grey armor stood on the top of the beacon and watched his ship approach.
The old Imperial colony was so alien his head couldn't even comprehend it. Very few of the original buildings were standing. Instead, they were replaced by small buildings made of grey stone with brown roofs that had the look of a shell of some alien bug. There was a wall on the eastern side with heaps of ash piled up under it, and his gaze shifted to the east, where another wall was blocking his view, continuing to the south, twining around the southwestern point of the peninsula, stopping at the edge of the mountains. Damn...bigger than I thought but still one big alien shithole…
Raven Rock.
Gjalund steered the ship towards one available dock and Grulmar thought for a second they were going to crash into the building right in front of them, but the sailors jumped onto the wharf, immediately tying ropes around the columns. The Northern Maiden then stopped with strong tug that sent Grulmar to the deck face forward. He managed to get his hand under his body and slowed his fall - the prospect of a broken nose before even getting off the ship kicked up his self-preservation instincts. Gjalund laughed when he saw that and helped him back to his feet. Yeah, laugh ya tusker…
“Now now, you don't have to hold on to the ship like a baby clinging to mama. She doesn’t have teats, you know.” Grulmar sneered at the Nord, who was undaunted. “Besides, I thought you were eager to get off,” Gjalund chuckled and Grulmar bit his tongue, otherwise he would have told that smelly Nord something really nasty. Or blast him to Oblivion more than likely. Instead of that, he just stepped off the boat, onto the wharf, and to his surprise he found that he couldn't actually stand straight. It was almost as if the wharf under him was moving and Grulmar extended his arms to keep his balance. “Yeah, you'll get used to it. After all these years I still feel more comfortable on ship than on solid ground.”
“I do not intend on gettin' used to it,” Grulmar murmured. He noticed a Dunmer in fancy clothes approach them. The Orc still wasn't able to determine any elf's age with any certainty and this one wasn't any different. He looked in his mid-forties, but that could mean anything with a Dunmer. Could be somewhere between one hundred and two, and that's as close as I can get. The Dunmer's eyes were fixed on Gjalund and it was the Nord who he addressed first.
“I was starting to wonder what happened to you."
"We, uh... we were delayed by bad weather. Before you even ask... yes, I have the supplies you requested. But..."
“But what?”
"This load cost me double what we had agreed on. Nothing I can do about it."
"Damn it, Gjalund. You know we don't have that much coin."
Good to know this shithole is really a shithole, Grulmar thought.
“Look, the East Empire Company didn't give me a choice. They've raised their prices again, and there's nothing I can do about it."
"After all these years, they're gouging us for every last drake we have. Let me talk to Lleril. I'll see what we can do."
"All right, Adril. Don't worry about rushing it. Just pay me when you can.”
The Dunmer nodded and then his gaze shifted towards Grulmar. His red eyes scanned the Orc from the tip of his toes to his forehead and then he repeated his inspection once more before finally addressing him. "I don't recognize you, so I'll assume this is your first visit to Raven Rock, Outlander. State your intentions."
Grulmar smirked and whistled. “Damn. Now that’s what I call a warm welcome. Already feels like home, sweet home.”
"That's the kind of attitude that's going to land you in prison, but I'll let it go for now,” the Dunmer sneered. "Just remember, Raven Rock is sovereign territory of House Redoran. This is Morrowind, not Skyrim. While you're here, you will be expected to abide by our laws. If you get into trouble you can come to me or Captain Veleth. If you cause trouble...we'll come to you. Is that clear?”
“As clear as the sky,” Grulmar murmured, looking up at the sky, which actually didn't seem so clear, mostly grey-black from all the ash coming from Red Mountain.
The Dunmer nodded. “Then welcome to Raven Rock, green-skin.”
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Comments
I hope he knows how to brew a good canis root tea because he's gonna need it.
I hope he knows how to brew a good canis root tea because he's gonna need it.
I honestly can't predict how that'd turn out.
I honestly can't predict how that'd turn out.