A Month In Skyrim - Day Twenty-Nine

by danielkempster

Day Twenty-Nine - A Daedric Mis-Step I left Solitude with the sun still absent from the morning sky and began my journey south towards Markarth - not to stop at the city itself, but to put me on the right path to reach Fort Sungard. During my last visit to Markarth, an Orc blacksmith by the name of Ghorza gra-Bagol had asked me to recover a copy of The Last Scabbard of Akrash , a book that she...

Day Twenty-Nine - A Daedric Mis-Step

I left Solitude with the sun still absent from the morning sky and began my journey south towards Markarth - not to stop at the city itself, but to put me on the right path to reach Fort Sungard. During my last visit to Markarth, an Orc blacksmith by the name of Ghorza gra-Bagol had asked me to recover a copy of The Last Scabbard of Akrash, a book that she believed might spur her apprentice into improving his smithing skills. Her request had taken me back to my own apprenticeship, when I myself had been inspired by that very book, and the rekindling of that near-forgotten memory rendered me unable to refuse. Ghorza believed a copy of the book was at Fort Sungard, hence my reason for heading there.

I arrived to find the fort overrun with Forsworn bandits, and struggled to approach under a storm of arrows. In a moment of inspiration, I raised my head above cover and Shouted with Unrelenting Force, throwing the archers from the ramparts. My sword made short work of the other Forsworn as I moved into the fort's interior, where true to Ghorza's word, a copy of The Last Scabbard of Akrash sat upon a table in the sleeping quarters. I placed it into my pack and departed from the fort, running back to Markarth under the morning sun. Ghorza seemed incredibly grateful when I handed over the book, and in return for my actions taught me a tempering skill unique to the Orsimer. I wish I had known it sooner - it would have proven most useful in crafting my suit of Orcish armour.

As I parted ways with Ghorza and her apprentice, I met with a vigilant of Stendarr in the city streets. He introduced himself as Vigilant Tyranus, and asked me if I'd seen anybody entering or leaving the abandoned house near the city's entrance. Supposedly there had been reports of Daedra worship there, and Tyranus had been sent by the vigil to investigate. Having nothing more to do before returning to Riverwood tomorrow, I agreed to help Tyranus explore the house. As we entered, the latch on the door clicked shut, locking us into the building. Objects began to dance around the room as if held by ghosts, and a disembodied voice began ordering Tyranus to kill me.

The vigilant left me with no choice - reluctantly, I was forced to take his life before he took mine. With Tyranus's blood spilled, the voice invited me into the house's basement. There I discovered the extent of the peril in which I'd managed to place myself - the voice was emanating from a shrine to the Daedric prince Molag Bal. Resting on the shrine was an ancient rusted mace, a Daedric artifact which Molag Bal informed me had been stripped of his power by a servant of another of the Daedra, Boethiah. He asked me to find this servant and bring him back to the shrine, that he might restore the mace to its former glory. Realising with horror that I was likely damned if I helped and certainly dead if I refused, I agreed to search for Boethiah's servant and left the shrine. When I returned upstairs, the front door of the house was unlocked once more.

Molag Bal had speculated that the servant I sought had been abducted by bandits and taken to their camp near Bruca's Leap Redoubt, so I began following the path to the north. Sure enough, I found the man I was looking for being guarded at a Forsworn encampment. As I hurriedly attempted to cut his bindings I was set upon by the Forsworn themselves, forcing me to turn my blade on them. When the area was clear and the prisoner's ties were released, he introduced himself as Logrolf the Willful and asked who had sent me. At the mention of Molag Bal's name he became quite hostile, and demanded that I accompany him to the shrine in Markarth so that he might perform his rite and keep the Daedra's mace bound and unusable.

By the time we'd arrived back within the city walls night had set in, but I was determined to see this business through to its conclusion before even thinking about sleep. I accompanied Logrolf to the house where Molag Bal resided, and followed him down to the basement. As he approached the shrine, Molag Bal trapped him within a make-shift cage. Placing the rusted mace in my hand, the Daedric prince demanded that I end Logrolf's life with it. Not seeing any other way out of the situation, save my own death, I did as Molag Bal had instructed. While I struggled to hold back the nausea, the mace in my hand took on a brilliant new lustre as if by magic. The artifact restored, Molag Bal gifted his Mace to me and dismissed me from the shrine. I hurried upstairs and out of the house, desperate to leave the whole sordid affair behind.

I did not want to stop at the Silver-Blood Inn tonight. Put simply, I just wanted to get out of Markarth, and not return for a long time. I took the southern road back to Whiterun, arriving at Breezehome just after 3:00am. I have cleared my pack of all clutter and readied my affairs for tomorrow. In the morning, I plan to meet with Delphine in Riverwood and find out if she has finished planning our inflitration of the Thalmor embassy. Until then,

Ever Honest,

Lenah'd Retsmek

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