Young Writers Society

Moghakh, Wielder of Volendrung

During my decent down the mountain, I had a lot of time to reflect upon the task that I, and the others, have been burdened with. I was expecting a lot more from the divines, the people chosen didn't seem too intimidating or powerful... The only one that caught my eye is the fair Nord, his strength and discipline in a fight intrigued me. He doesn't get lost in battle but instead he seems to have his movements planned from the first step. Then again Trolls aren't the most intelligent of creatures.

I didn't want to dwell on the quest too much, so my mind drifted to other things. I noticed the cat coming down the mountain, ahead of the group. I wanted time to think so I increased my pace to a slow jog.

Ki’Tzung

“Slow down!” I called ahead to the Orc, but his attention was focused on whatever bull-headed thoughts were running through his mind. A slide of snow had slipped from the heights of the mountain, yet the group had not the mind to look up (nor would I had I not flipped my coin), and the Orc (and his unique and no doubt valuable Daedric artefact) were at extreme peril. There was a chance he’d make it to the other side of the avalanche, but then it was likely he would be picked off by whatever dwells in the middle regions of the Throat of the World.

He started to increase his pace as I made my hasty approach. What the hell is going through that thick skull of his? The snow had completely broken away from the cliff above us, and an echo rumbled menacingly through the bitter Skyrim air; the avalanche had started. As the lethal mixture of ice, snow and rubble began to tumble at frightening speed down the face of the mountain I sprinted to catch up with Moghakh, but the strain of all that I carried quickly tired me. Suddenly the Redguard passed me in the blink of an eye. I slowed, at least it wasn’t I that would have to take care of that astonishing artefact.
The rest of the group caught up in a few seconds, and gasped in shock as the debris of the mountain fell upon the ex-nightingale.
“Sorek!” the Nord called in distress, most likely in the terror that we had already lost one of our own.

“I’m okay,” we heard him reply, to which a few of the group huffed in relief at. “We’re both safely across, but it’s unlikely you’ll be able to cross through without an army of miners at your disposal. Do you think it’d be possible to descend to Ivarstead another way while Moghakh and I take the steps?”

Einar thought, all eyes watched he for he was the only Nord of the group, and furthermore one with the strongest knowledge of Skyrim’s geography.
“Perhaps,” he spoke, “there is a steep and dangerous route down the mountain that is not often used. As you can imagine it is prone to being used as sanctuary for a variety of predators.”

“Yet it is our only chance. Ki’Tzung stands by his opinion that the Divines selected us all for a purpose, and we must overcome all challenges we face to earn our titles as the best adventurers in Tamriel. Let us head down the mountain, and meet the other two at the town of Ivarstead.”

Aeril

The Nord turns away from the path and strides confidently through the snow, and the rest of us follow slowly, careful of the dangerous footing.

I glanced around at my teammates. However much I might dislike them, Auriel demanded I aid them, and so I should get to know them. The Breton mage might have some memories similar to my own. Magic is magic, no matter where it's taught. I asked her softly, "Where did you learn magic?"

She jumped, seemingly startled. I smiled reassuringly, and she answered, "From my mother, a tutor, and then the College of Winterhold. What about you? From what I've heard about your people, magic must be as common as dirt there."

"We still have to learn it, just like anyone else. There aren't any magic schools anymore, though, and many fewer learn the art now then once was," I said. "Most learn from their families or local wizards open to apprentices." My mind drifts back to my mentor. Even her skills with magic could not prevent her death of age. My mouth hardens into a thin line. "My people are not as they once were."

She quickly changed the subject. "Have you ever heard of the Elder Scrolls before now? I had heard rumors, but not much more."

"Not much. I learned a little from my mentor, but after the destruction of the Crystal Tower, my people lost much of our learning on the subject and many others." I looked up at the sky and noticed it had turned a rosy color. "It's getting dark. Do we have much farther to go? I can see well in the night but I doubt you, the Nord, and the Imperial can."

The Nord halted and we gathered in a circle. "This path is taking much longer than the steps would, and it's too dangerous to attempt in the dark. We need to find a cave before nightfall. Could any of you mages contact Sorek and Moghakh to explain we won't be in Ivarstead until tomorrow morning?"

The Dark Elf stepped forward. "I know conjuration and illusion. I'm sure I can think of something."

"Good." He turned to me. "Elf, once we find a cage will you be willing to give us a fire? It's the only way we'll not freeze tonight, considering any wood we do find will be frozen."

"Of course, but unless we have something to burn, it will disappear the moment I stop casting it, and although I would just love to sit around all night casting a fire to keep us warm, eventually I would drop dead of exhaustion and you'd freeze anyway. I also suggest keeping watch in shifts. You would know better than I about the dangers of Skyrim's mountains, but I suspect there's worse than trolls out there."

"Right then. We'll need firewood, a place to sleep, and we'll set watches later. Karin, Tullio, you're with me. We'll search for wood and anything else flammable. The others will look for a cave."

Two thoughts went through my head when he left. Great, a cave. I hate caves. I swear that every cave I saw on my way to this mountain was home to bears, bandits, vampires, or necromancers. Seriously, Skyrim had quite the problem with caves. The second thought was, I wonder why he took the other two humans with him and left the three elves and the cat to look for caves. Oh, right. Maybe that has something to do with my previous thought.

Ki'Tzung

I found it odd that the Nord had taken the scrawny politician and the Breton, both of which couldn't have been able to hold a hatchet for long. Yet that meant less work for me and it played close to what my people are naturally good at- survival. I had slept in many caves in my travels, for many of the roads through Cyrodiil were sought with bandits and dangerous creatures. Although they had a bad reputation, a dark crevice was often much safer than out in the open, though as a Khajiit it was no surprise I had no quarrel with such accommodation.

The two Elves were likely to be finicky about where we settled, what with the arrogance that came with their abilities, so I did my best to steer clear of them for the time being. As darkness began to settle, I was heavily relied upon to lead the trio with my keen eyesight, and after ten minutes or so of searching a rather comfortable cove caught my attention.
"This way, in here," I whispered to the Elves, pointing to the mouth I had spotted.

"In there? I will not lay down in such a dreary hole," I heard a voice behind me say.

I mostly ignored the comment, for I had half-predicted it. "Tell Ki'Tzung this: would you rather bear with unpleasantries now and live to see next dawn? Or perish by a creature's jaws, or worse- the bitter, unforgiving cold?"

A reply did not come, but I had already entered the cave to inspect just what was held within its dark, secretive face.