C.o.t.D: Chapter 7 - City of Stone

• Posted by A-Pocky-Hah! January 28, 2016 - 1,145 views

  Chapter 7: City of Stone

  

  15th First Seed, 4E 201

  The first rays of sunlight crawled down the valley as morning came. Axius was walking along the pebbled road, his armor and equipment bearing down the more he walked. Beside him, are the two sellswords he unintentionally met two days ago. The Dunmer, Teldryn Sero and his employer, a brute of a Nord named Bjarke.

  The Nord woke up at Karthwasten, grumpy and had been that way for the rest of the journey to Markarth. Their journey was delayed by a day when Axius had to deal with a couple sellswords who were trying to seize the village’s silver mine. With a bit of  “persuasion”, the sellswords left the village and the mine without any bloodshed but Bjarke wanted to kill them all anyways.

  The three soon stopped when they saw the road filled with bodies wearing red and blue colors. The raising Sun made the blood turned crimson red. Crows were croaking and picking off small bits of flesh from the corpses. They soon scatter like skeevers as the sellswords stepped forward.

  “Forsworn did this?” asked Axius in curiosity.

  “No, just another skirmish from the Nords petty civil war.” Sero replied calmly, looking down at a dead Legionnaire. He glanced at a bag of gold nearby and grabbed it, tossing it up and down to measure its contents. “He won’t be needing this in Sovngrad.”

  “It’s pronounced Sovn-gar-de.” Axius hastily corrected the Dunmer as he snatched the bag, placing it back to where it was found. “And show some respect to the dead.”

  Sero grunted before taking the lead, followed by Axius and Bjarke who was kneeling before a dead kinsman. I guess even bloodthirsty barbarians pay their respects. Axius thought when he looked at the Nord.

  They were soon greeted by sound of hoes ploughing the soil, goats belching and a windmill slowly spinning its sails. In front, two towers made out of stone overwatch the road, a few patches of moss covered the walls while a dome made from dwarven metal decked the top. A guard was posted on each tower, their shady eyes closely observing the three sellswords.

  What stood out the most was the city gates that was purely made from the stones of the mountainsides. The cravings were so delicate even after being centuries old. Only the Dwemeri stonemasons would crave something this fine. Axius tried to touch one of the pillars but was immediately stopped by the guards.

  “Hands off the pillar, Imperial or you’ll lose em.” ordered a guard as he grabbed the Imperial’s arm. His grip was as cold and hard as the city he lived in.

  "Seriously, there’s a law for touching rocks?" Axius wrestled his arm away from the guard’s grip. The guard took it as an offense and was about to draw his sword before Sero stepped in.

  “Greetings good sir.” Sero greeted as he gently pushed down the guard’s sword arm back into his sheath.

  “I’m sorry for my friend’s rude behaviour. We had a long and rough journey if you catch my meaning.” He winked. “ He’s a scholar and you know how scholars are like when it comes to Dwemer culture.”

  “He doesn’t look like a scholar.” the guard said.

  Sero then pulled out something from his pocket and placed it on the guard’s hand and whispered something on his ear. His attitude then quickly changed.

  “Alright, you three can go.. but don’t go sticking your nose around.” He opened the bronze door behind him. A blast of sound, smell and sight of the marketplace welcomed them when they entered.

  “Did you just bribe him? And what did he mean by sticking your nose around?” Axius asked as they walked through the door.

  “I don’t know. Just don’t get yourself into trouble and you’ll be fine. Consider yourself lucky I saved you from being thrown into Cidhna Mine.”

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  A crowd of people gathered at the marketplace, buying and peddling wares. Markarth was known for its trade in silver and jewelry due to the rich amount of silver ores in the hold. It was also known for it’s infamous motto that sellswords and travellers often speak of. Blood and Silver flows through Markarth. Axius whispered.

  It wasn’t the first time he heard it. Erandur warned him at Dawnstar and so did the sellswords in Karthwasten. Was the phrase referring to Markarth’s history and land or was it something else more sinister?

  “Bloodiest beef in the Reach!” a butcher shouted. His counter was filled with raw meat, blood dripping down and flies pestering about.

  Or maybe it’s the meat? He thought.

  Sero and Bjarke excuse themselves and headed for the Jarl’s keep with the Briarheart’s head in tow.

  Now that they’re gone, I guess I can go look for that priest of Arkay.

  Before he could leave the area, Axius noticed a citizen pull out a knife from his pocket and slowly walked towards a woman. The man's gonna kill that woman! Axius didn’t have time to think and quickly tackled the man, surprising the woman, merchants and pedestrians as they scuffled.

  The man managed to get on top of Axius and shouted, “The Reach belongs to the Forsworn!” for all to hear before plunging his knife into the Imperial. Axius managed to grab the Forsworn’s arms in a sliver of time and redirected the knife into his chest. He jerked for a moment before laying down beside the Imperial, bleeding as his white shirt turned red.

  “I… die… for my people.” The blood coming out of his mouth muffled most of his words. He soon died, succumbing to his wound.

  Two guards shove through the crowd, ordering them to disperse. Axius hoped for one of the guards to lend him a hand to get up, but didn’t receive any.

  “Hey! That guy just shouted Forsworn.” He pointed when he got up.

  A guard approached the Imperial seemingly calm despite the dead body between them. “Markarth is perfectly safe. No Forsworn will ever try laying a foot here.” He sounded assuring. You have a dead guy that just shouted “Forsworn” and you claim this place is safe!?  “Now scram, and stay out of trouble!”

  Axius finally left the area, being wary of the guards watching him from behind. The woman, whom he saved, thanked him with a silver pendant, an emerald embedded the center. When he asked her about the dead Forsworn, she claim that she didn’t know who or why he tried to attack her.

  Something doesn’t quite make sense here…

  “Bloody enough for you, outsider?” A voice interrupted Axius when he walked up the sloped pathway.

  Axius looked to his left a saw a Nord, leaning against a small stone bridge. He was a brute just like Bjarke except he lacked a bit of height. The eyes on his dirt covered face was like every other guard in the city, narrow and suspicious.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Markarth, is it bloody enough?”

  “Bloody.. enough. I guess?” He didn’t quite understand the Nord's question nor did he wanted to. So he chose what was probably the best answer.

  The Nord wasn’t amused by Axius’s answer and stepped forward, revealing the iron studs on his armor. “Then turn around and go back where you came. City doesn't need you, doesn't want you. Blood and silver are what flows through Markarth. That's the way it is. That's the way it'll stay.”

  “Again with the whole Blood and Silver thing. What does that even mean?”

  The Nord snorted before leaning back again. “It's right there in the name of the most powerful family in Markarth, The Silver-Bloods.” He continued explaining. This time, he spoke in a less hostile tone. “They have a whole mine filled with prisoners to dig up silver ore, gets smelted by workers they pay, and they own half the city. I work for them. The inn is named after them. When the guards make an arrest, they check with them first.”

  “Well, thanks for… explaining.” Axius quickly walked away. Now, he felt more wary of the city, like a thousand eyes watching him from the shadows.  

  He met up with Sero and Bjarke, standing in front of the keep. The entrance itself wasn’t quite spectacular other than the signature stone carvings and bronze door. A waterfall dropped down in the middle before splitting between a statue resembling the face of a Dwemer and rejoining back.

  “Good to see, you didn’t break any bones during your climb here. The stairs here can sometimes be hazardous, especially if you’re drunk.” Sero announced, his glistening white teeth could be seen behind a sly smile.

  “Well to be honest, Someone did try to break my hopes back down there.”

  “Yngvar?” Bjarke spat. “That bard is better at breaking the strings on his lute than he is with skulls. Why be a personal guard to some rich noble if you can live your life as a mercenary? A milk-drinker is what I call him.”

  “I don’t think you should talk about him like that. The Sil..”

  “Fuck the Silver-Bloods and fuck their shiny rocks. As long as I keep bringing them Forsworn heads, they won’t mind me talking trash about their bulldog.” The Nord’s stomach soon growled like a hungry wolf. “I need to fill her up.” Bjarke said as he rubbed his belly. “Better hope the inn has some chickens.”

  “Well, I better look after him before he kills everyone inside. Just like last time. If you’re going inside Understone Keep, just don’t mind the Altmer.” Sero implied before catching up to his employer.

  Altmer? Axius started to think on what the Dunmer meant before heading inside.

   

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  Just ahead the corridors were the entrance hall of Understone Keep. Two stone braziers lit the area as guards stand on guard, arms crossed. Above them were the green banners of Markarth, adorned with a golden ram’s head.

  This place is vast. Axius thought as he gazed at the various Dwemer architectures. The keep was truly a castle in a mountain. It wasn’t his first time being in a place like this. The Monastery was also build within the mountainside but this one was different. Different walls, different lights and different… sound?

  “What are you hiding, priest?” A voice echoed throughout the cave, snapping back Axius from his reverie.

  When he looked forward, a middle aged Nord was arguing with a priest. Axius didn’t hear much, only caught the words “honored dead” and “desecration”. Looks like I’m in the right place.

  “That’s enough, Thongvor. We’re done.” said the priest before leaving the Nord in his irritated state.

  Axius followed the priest from behind and into a tunnel until they appeared before the gates of a Dwemer ruin. “Nchuand-Zel” he muttered. Two Dwarven Spheres towered over a small bridge, connecting the keep to the door. Their lifeless, bronze “eyes” seemingly watching the Imperial as he passed.

  The priest suddenly turned around and was startled. “Look, if it's about the Hall of the Dead, no, you can't go in there.” he sounded frustrated as if he’d been receiving the same question for some time.

  “Why not?” Axius asked.

  “I can't talk about it. Rest assured, the Jarl hears everyone's concerns. You will be able to visit the dead again soon.” the priest replied.

  “Surely a priest of Arkay could speak the truth to a knight of the Divine.” Axius persuaded, showing his signet ring which most knights wore in recognition.

  “You really are a knight.” His frustration turned to relief when he saw the engraved ring. “Bless Arkay for you have come!” The priest praised for the knight’s arrival. “We've discovered that some of the dead have been... eaten. Flesh has been chewed off, bones were snapped to get at the marrow inside.” He said. It seems Erandur’s story was correct after all. “We haven't caught anyone or anything yet. It's like it knows when I'm there. If you can get to the bottom of this, the Priesthood of Arkay will reward you. Take my key, and be careful.”

  The priest showed Axius the door to the Hall of the Dead and stayed behind.

  “Once again, I descend into the bowels of darkness. Arkay grant me strength.” Axius said before entering, not knowing who or what lies inside.

  The door closed with a loud “clang”, taking back the light it brought along. The Hall was dim-lighted, cold and had an eerie silence. He moved forward with his mace and shield, shifting his eyes left and right at every corner, looking for anything that wasn’t lying dead or isn’t dead. He heard a crumbling sound behind him and turned, but only saw the candle’s flame blowing sideways, its wax seeping down the black candlestick.

  Just a gust of wind I guess. Axius thought.

  “Not many would walk blindly into a crypt, smelling of steel and blood, but not fear.” A female disembodied voice announced. It nearly made the Imperial jumped.

  “Who are you? And why are you here?” Axius called out, hoping to get a response.

  The Hall was in a moment of utter silence for a few seconds before the voice giggled seductively and replied.

  “I feel the hunger inside of you. Gnawing at you. You see the dead and your mouth grows wet. Your stomach growls. It's all right. I will not shun you for what you are. Stay, and I will tell you everything you have forgotten.”

  What in Oblivion is she talking about? Axius moved closer to the shrine of Arkay at the center where the light was brightest. He had his eyes on the two passageways, waiting for the woman to reveal herself.

  The woman then revealed herself in a blink of an eye in front of Axius. Invincibility spell. Should of known.

  "You were young when you first tasted human flesh, weren't you? A brother or sister had died? An accident, of course. Then the hunger set in. Curiosity. What's the harm in just one bite?”  The woman accused. She had a tattoo painted across her blind left eye. Her breath reeked of decay and flesh. “It's okay, now. You've found a friend who understands you. You can let go of your guilt.”

  “I’m not a cannibal.” Axius curled his lips, not believing the woman’s accusation. This woman however, is. I never even had a brother or sister.

  “A lot of our kind block out the memory of their first meal. The shame is too much.” The woman said, still believing the Imperial is a cannibal like her. “But you don't need to hide anymore. Namira, the Lady of Decay, accepts you for what you are. She has a place for us, where we can sate our appetites without judgment."

  Namira, the Daedric Prince of Decay and Repulsion. Would make sense why one of her acolytes is desecrating the corpses sanctified by Arkay. They have always been at odds. Axius thought before he brainstormed an idea. Maybe I could pretend to be this so called cannibal she thinks I am. That way, she could let me inside her cult and I could remove their presence from The Reach.

  “You’re right, I should let go of my guilt.” He sounded convincing enough to make the woman smile in joy. “So, where is this place? I’m sure you have some leftover food left there.”

  "It's inside Reachcliff Cave.” She marked Axius’s map that he gave her. “But the dead have stirred from their slumber recently, and I was forced here. Meet me there. We will fight our way to Namira's embrace together."

  “I will, but I must prepare. I’ll meet you there soon… um..”

  “Eola. That’s my name.” She finished his sentence. “Until then, tell the people of Markarth that their dead won't be disturbed, anymore. We have bigger plans ahead.” She casted her invincibility spell and vanished.

  “And so the game begins..” Axius muttered, grinning gleefully. His new mission was now set. He needed to prepare for the undead in the cave. That means potions, scrolls and supplies for the journey. Looks like I won’t be leaving this place sooner.

  When he walked out of the Hall, the priest was surprised that he was alive and unscathed.

  “Is the Hall of the Dead safe now?” He asked.

  “Yeah. Turns out there was a cannibal eating the dead. Managed to scare her away so you won’t be seeing her anytime soon.” Axius replied. Hopefully...

  The priest gave him an amulet of Arkay as a token of gratitude for his service before entering the Hall of the Dead, resuming his duty as caretaker.

   

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  Axius spent the night in the Silver-Blood Inn. He rented a room which was “one of the best rooms” they had to offer. In contrast, it was one of the least comfortable rooms in the inn and even perhaps all the inns of Skyrim. The bed was nothing but a large stone slab with a leather pillow and a tattered blanket. The table was littered with tankards, trays and a mead keg. He placed his backpack beside the bed and sat on the chair. The constant creaking made it feel like the chair was about to break.

  Axius pushed the clutters away from the table, sending them down clanking. He placed the inkwell and paper on the table and dipped the tip of his hawk-feathered quill into the black ink and wrote...

  Dear Uncle Ignacius,

  It seems you were right about Vaermina being involved with the nightmares plaguing Dawnstar. I have dealt with it with the help of a former acolyte of her’s and now I’m currently in Markarth, dealing with a cult of cannibals. I hoped you and the others pray for my safety in this land. Skyrim is truly a brutal and cold place. (Remind Ser Radovir that he was right.) But there was also beauty in it too.

  I’ve seen how Solitude has ch….

  His writing was abruptly interrupted when a “thud” was heard outside the room followed by people cheering. “Drunken arseholes. Can’t a man get some peace and quiet.” He cursed before exiting his room.

  Axius saw a crowd of patrons gathering around the main hall of the inn, cheering, booing and betting. He saw Bjarke brawling with two other Nords. He had a drunken look to him and he walked wobbly before being punched by one of the Nords. Axius saw Sero seating between the spectators, counting his coin before putting them, one by one inside a pouch.

  “What in Akatosh is happening here!?” Axius shouted at the Dunmer. His voice was almost buried by the voices of dozens.

  Sero stopped counting his coins and looked up, seeing the angry Imperial. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m counting my pay.” He wittingly replied after he picked his ear.

  Unsatisfied, Axius slammed the table with his hands, causing the mead to spill and coins shaking. The people surrounding them stepped aside and continued watching the brawl. He pointed his finger towards Bjarke and the two Nords fighting, demanding an explanation.

  “Oh, that.” Sero sighed before wiping the spill on his table with a nearby piece of cloth. “Bjarke, in his drunken state, accidentally pushed a sellsword, spilling his drink on his companion’s armor. So they settled it like true Nords would. Good old fashion fistfighting.” He took a big gulp from his drink before counting his coin again.

  “And what if the guards come crashing in?”

  Sero chuckled. “Look around Imperial and tell me what you see.”

  Axius leaned up, popping his head among the wave of hair. He eyed on three guards laying back near the fireplace, wearing their green clothed armor, drinking and laughing. They didn’t even payed attention to the three Nords fighting. When he went down, Sero shot an eye at him.

  “See what I mean?”

  The hall soon erupted with cheers that could be heard from the stables if the door didn’t block it. Tankards and pouches were raised high in the air when a loud smack was heard.

  “Looks like Bjarke knocked down one of the sellsword.” Sero said. “That, or he broke the man’s jaw.”

  Axius left the area, returning to his partially quiet stony abode. The noise outside were reduced to loud mumblings. He sat back on the creaking chair to resume writing his letter, only to find a scrawled note on top of it.

  Where did this come from? Axius thought suspiciously. He didn’t quite lock his room properly so he checked the contents of his backpack to find it untouched. He proceeded moved his fingers over the letter, collecting the dirt and dust that came with it before opening it. The letter only had one sentence, seven words which raised the Imperial’s eyebrows.

  Meet me at the Shrine of Talos

  “Meet me at the Shrine of Talos?” He muttered, confused at its meaning.

  Markarth seemed to have many surprises in stored for the Templar. A bloody welcoming, The Silver-Bloods, a cult of cannibals and now a mysterious note. These things spinned around Axius’s head as he poured some water into his cup. Could they all be linked to something? More importantly, where does this note lead to? He kept thinking as he chugged down his cup. It seems the plot thickens. He suddenly spewed the water from his mouth.

  “Gods, this water is awful!”

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