12 - Victoria - The Lord of Miscarcand:

My last action before leaving Anvil was to peruse the spells available at the guild, however it appeared that this particular branch specialised in the school of Restoration. I don't dismiss this school, for some of the spells - most notably the spells of absorbation, are both dark and powerful; while the fortify attribute spells can also be most effective if used correctly. Unfortunately however the spell variants on offer here were rather weak, and with no access to spell making facilities – in addition to a rather tight budget – I decided to pass on them for now, pending a return at a later date.

Leaving by the main gate with the intent of beginning my journey, I had returned within less than a minute, for immediately outside the gate and just off the path I had found a most peculiar root. It was a pale blue, and was like nothing I had seen before - or indeed even heard. It was doubtless extremely rare, and I had thus decided to see if the guilds resident alchemist could provide any insight. Unfortunately this was not the case, for although intrigued, the only help that was provided was the suggestion to show the root to 'Sinderion' of Skingrad; happily directly on my path. Departing again I paused next to the stables for a time, studying it intently. In reality I was little more than an advanced apprentice in alchemy, yet I believed that I could read two effects from this root. The first, that it had the power to drain health, and secondly that it had the ability to drain fatigue. I was stunned, surely my masters training should have covered such a reagent, for it was the most effective poisonous substrate that I had yet encountered. I would treasure this in the hope of procuring more at a later date – and intended to study it again in greater depth upon the advancement of my skills.

Walking along the path my thoughts again drifted to my financial situation, what other methods were there to earn money? The obvious approach was to both gather what I could as I walked this route, and to investigate any ruins I saw in search of a healthy return; certainly the Elven ruins had paid well enough. A mounted guard overtook me, greeting me in passing; however he ignored the corpse of the highway cat. Obviously I had been correct in thinking no one would miss a bandit, although I began to wonder how long the body would lie there. Certainly it would soon be in an 'advanced' state that none would wish to approach it. This was not my problem however, hadn't I already done everybody a favour through killing it? Walking past the Khajiit I felt something, something vague...I paused, trying to ascertain what was causing the sensation. A nagging suspicion began to form in my mind. The Khajiit lay there unburied and forgotten, perhaps it was its soul that I felt – for I had a strange affinity with the dead. Then it struck me, I still had nine soul gems, and although all were of a moderately inferior quality, I felt they could likely trap the spirits of most of the creatures or unlife that I would be dealing with in the near future – and they would surely sell for a moderate price, or at least prove useful. I could hardly believe I had overlooked this, and decided that before I reached Skingrad I would attempt to fill the of the gems with unwilling occupants.

The white horses of Anvil had cost four thousand gold, but if the black horses of Cheydinhal were faster then it was unlikely they would cost any less, meaning I must attempt to collect a couple of thousand gold before I reached there. Having left Anvil at a little past mid day, I passed the Brina Cross Inn at two fifteen, and felt I was making good time. There was no point entering, although I suppose the landlord might have been pleased to learn of the death of the murderess – as it would be good for business. It was at this moment that a woman rode past at high speed upon a black horse – likely one of the very breed I was myself considering. It had looked healthy enough, but I had barely had time to notice it before it was upon me, and then passed, leaving me slightly disappointed at not getting a better look. This was of course offset by the knowledge that they could clearly ride like the wind, and would indeed serve me well.

Further along I passed the corpse of Caminadala, whom I had stripped earlier – obviously those battle mages hadn't cared to clear up. Perhaps it was a display designed to reassure the public that justice had been served; although personally I doubted that upon seeing a dead semi naked woman many would realise this had been the murderer who had plagued this road, rather than merely a victim.

Disappointingly I encountered no creatures along the path, besides a pair of shy deer. Their souls would be weak, but that was to an extent irrelevant - they moved too fast for me to cast my soul trap spell upon them, for it required a touch; something I would change as and when I finally gained access to the spell making facilities of the Arcane University.

Now passing the Gotshaw Inn I turned to look towards Kvatch; it remained out of sight, masked by an elevated cliff, however the trees upon the cliff looked dead and bare – was this a symptom of the attack? The answer would have to wait for another day, as I continued onwards feeling I could make Skingrad before the night set in. Unfortunately I had fought nothing more deadly than a particularly stubborn Flax flower thus far, and I could hardly soul trap that, so my gems remained transparent and silent.

It was at this point that I sighted a marble wall in the woods ahead of me to my left – raising the hope that there might be a full Elven ruin just out of sight. The prior ruin had paid well, and so I immediately left the path, heading directly towards the remains.

I was in luck, for although hidden from the road, there was indeed an Elven ruin; it stood gleaming in the late afternoon light. I paused for a time, gazing upon both its enchanting beauty, and attempting to see if any creatures prowled the exterior. A winged statue, hung with creepers, stood in the foreground – and it was behind this that I at last observed movement; a pair of goblins. Deciding that this was the perfect opportunity to get some experience capturing souls – for there was a fair chance that I might not have that luxury in the interior – I readied my spell.

Soul capture is a curious spell, but that can be said for all of the school of Mysticism; it works by enveloping the recipient for a limited duration. If the individual dies while the spell is in effect the spell snatches the soul of the deceased, ripping it from the body and sealing it in the casters soul gem. Such magic was extremely unpopular among the unenlightened public, but the benefits overcome many scruples. A soul that was contained, rather than following its natural path, could be used to power enchanted items – recharging their power, or alternatively it could be bound to an item; enchanting it with what ever magical effects the creators intent, and skill, allowed. The souls of the Goblins would be too weak to form the foundation of a useful enchantment, however they would at least provide additional charge to an already enchanted item, or provide me with some income.

I ran forward, hoping to cover as much of the ground between myself and them as possible, both due to the necessity for physical contact to cast the spell, and as one of the goblins was an archer. I was largely successful in this, and had to dodge only one arrow before I was upon them. Having focussed my mind during my swift advance, I clasped my hand upon the forehead of the Goblin archer, casting the spell of binding upon him. I think perhaps he recognised it, for a look of fear rose in his eyes, yet he did not run – instead notching the next arrow while calling for his friend to help. At least that is what I inferred, the speech of Goblins is not part of my repertoire – if such screeches can indeed be considered speech.

The spell would last only twenty seconds (an additional reason to create an improved variant) and, with his friend approaching, I wasted no time, unleashing wave after wave of crackling lightning upon him. His twitching body fell within seconds, and I could feel my spell come into effect, a strange sensation. As his body twitched for the last time, with the last wave of power passing over him, I felt the soul begin to rise from the body, only to be torn towards me. I wondered idly if souls retained cognitive function before admonishing myself, surely it was so, for did not ghosts occasionally haunt locations? What then could the spirit of the Goblin perceive, trapped as it was inside the now cloudy soul gem - which had acquired a soft glow.

The second Goblin swiftly followed the first, and I continued into the ruins; until at last I came upon the characteristic spiral staircase which would lead to the interior. With no sign of further creatures outside, I approached, the stone door yawning back to reveal the interior...

Entering, the thought cross my mind that I could trap and sell the souls of my own summons, an interesting idea – although it would perhaps be a breach of trust. For the time being at least however this was not necessary; the ruins yielding all manor of undeath.

Creeping down the initial passage, I found myself upon an elevated path; a small cavern below and to my right – and from my vantage point I observed what appeared to be both zombies and skeletons. There seemed little point in waiting and, ignoring the biting cold of the crypt, I raised my bow; sending a shaft into the neck of a zombie below. The undead abruptly raced out of the door, leaving me with the disquieting suspicion that they were coming my way – for undead never flee without the use of specific magic. I did not have long to wait before I was proved correct, the silence broken by the grinding of bone upon stone, heralding their arrival. I had put the time to good use however, retreating to a point where they could only assault me in single file, and having readied a wave of fire – and my bow – I felled one before they had even reached me. From here I summoned my Daedric dagger and alternated between using it and my devastating lightning touch. Having dealt with the majority of them it was clear I would prevail, and I used this opportunity to seal the souls of my foes in many of my remaining soul gems, until at last I stood alone.

I will be more brief regarding the clearing of the upper levels of the ruins, for no particular encounter stood out. Perhaps the main item of note was the advancement of my own abilities, for upon summoning my minion forth I felt I had advanced to a new level of mastery in the school of conjuration.

The ruins transpired to contain life in addition to unlife, for it appeared that the Goblins on the surface had been part of a larger group, who were attempting to pillage the interior. They were largely unsuccessful, and I took the opportunity to pick them off when the chance presented itself – not that this was exactly necessary, as they appeared outmatched by the undead.

The upper levels cleared, I was rather pleased with how things had gone; for I collected more of the valuable Welkyd stones, in addition to a small range of other valuables. However there had been a couple of set backs; most notably my inability to open a number of locks, and a mind stunting disease I contracted in combat with a zombie, which I suspect to be a minor form of 'Witbane'. This should be relatively easy to cure, and the thought of it was wiped from my mind upon pressing upon a stone panel, revealing a previously hidden Varla stone. These were extremely valuable, potentially worth up to one thousand gold, and I immediately began to suspect that I had perhaps missed the stone in the earlier Elven ruin, if they were indeed a common feature. I would have to return there, hopefully before it became repopulated. I was now, as before, confronted by a door etched with a glowing tree, and I knew the sanctum must lie behind...

The sanctum was better defended than the upper regions, but despite this I continued attempting to trap the souls of my foes, until finally the soul of a defeated zombie escaped, signalling that I had no stones left of sufficient power to contain my foes. Looting as I went, I dropped the majority of my arrows in an attempt to carry more treasure, for I held well over a hundred arrows in my quiver – and I seemed to be acquiring them faster than they were being used. Following my advancement in conjuration I decided I would attempt to raise my abilities in the field of destruction, and so the dark caverns were soon lit with the light of fire, and the smell of burning flesh and bone.

The practise did me good, and I continued my search until at last I stumbled across an object that astounded me – a mighty stone that glowed with a fierce, cold light.

I stood before it for a time, transfixed by the sight of it – for it was almost hypnotising. It lit the entire chamber with an eerie glow, coloured an icy blue. Despite a period of study I had no idea what it was, and felt it likely that few would – for it seemed unearthly. I decided there and then that I would not sell this on, for any price I received from a shop keeper would surely undervalue it. I would wait until I came across someone who knew what it was, or until I learned a use for it.

Reaching forward at last I felt a sense of dread envelop me, but I would not stop, and I took the stone for my own. As I held it I felt the icy chill emanating from it, it was fortunate indeed that my hands were gloved, otherwise I would likely have been forced to use telekinesis to avoid contact with it. It was at this moment, as the stone was extinguished from the chamber, that I heard what sounded like a low whisper surrounding me. The ground itself seemed to groan and I stepped back, startled; the sound resulting from a passage opening in the wall. Fear struck my heart for the first time since my departure from the prison, as I beheld the guardian of the stone, and the architect of the trap...

The figure seemed to hover above the ground, a staff clasped in its right hand, which seemed withered. A crown of steel rested upon its head, my attention drawn to its age old face – and the almost unbearable hatred which could be felt. It wore a ragged robe, faded by untold years of age. I knew my foe from rumour and whispered tale – it was a Lich; an undead mage of great power, and utterly deadly.

My reverie was broken as it raised its staff, sending a beam of energy towards me which struck my chest, but I felt no change. Could there be some unseen force working upon me? I did not have the time or capacity to check, for it was at this point that a pair of the figures undead servants approached the plinth upon which I stood from either side, and I began my desperate fight.

Summoning my own minion, I darted behind the cage which had contained the stone – trying to keep it between me and my most deadly foe. From here I began assaulting the weaker pair, yet as the Lich approached I realised I could not afford to be distracted. Rushing forth I laid my hand upon its withered form, sending a storm of power over its skin; yet the very touch seemed to draw my strength, even through my glove, and – my magical resources drained – I raced away, in the hope of escaping through the passages.

Locked! The gates, once open, were now sealed around me; I confess this is the point I felt closest to panic – knowing that the creature would once again be bearing down on me. I had no time to pick the locks, and they were beyond my magical abilities – I turned, feeling despair as I saw the Lich bearing down upon me. Again I advanced upon it, feeling waves of cold strike me again and again from the hovering figure; I felt near collapse, but again succeeded in blasting it with my own powers. I ran on, feeling near death, my powers drained. Charging back to where the stone had stood I beheld the body of my minion, and one of the earlier pair; it seemed one zombie yet lived. I had barely reached this conclusion before I felt a rotten arm clasping my shoulder; I gagged, and, spinning reflexively, attempted to kick out, before retreating to the edge of the elevated plinth. I could see the Lich returning, and, with the last reserves of my power, summoned forth my minion to distract it; while I dived onto the floor below – exhausted and spent.

My ruse seemed to work in as much as the Lich did not immediately follow, but the zombie continued its dogged chase, and would soon be close – leaving me with no where to run. It was at this moment of desperation that I reached for one of the Welkyd stones I had collected, and, holding it aloft, I pierced the barrier with my mind. The shower was as nothing I had felt before; the cold of an icy lake, the bite of a blade, the feeling of triumph following a victory; the sensation was all these things, and more. It was overwhelming, yet I weathered it – and, the stone finally spent, I felt my power return.

I had no time to waste in contemplation at what had just happened, immediately summoning healing magic – melting the ice that coated my body, and breathing warmth into my wheezing lungs. Looking up, the zombie was almost upon me, but I was ready; diving forward I grasped the crown of its rotting head and, ignoring the soft, squelching sensation of its rotting flesh, I forced my raw energy into it – casting it against the far wall, where it moved no more.

I could see no sign of the Lich, and, deciding that I didn't really want to meet it again – for it had stood up to the full force of my magical abilities repeatedly, I ran for the door. The lock was strong, stronger than my spells – and in my frantic hurry I broke many lock picks before finally succeeding. I ascended the passage a little way, panting, before finally getting a hold of myself again – I had to finish this. Returning, I could see no sign, until at last – my way lit by my starlight spell, I found its body cast in the shadows, defeated.

Relief and regret washed over me; for it had been the hand of my minion rather than I that had ultimately ended its unlife – yet surely the vast majority of the damage had been caused by me. Near the body lay its staff, formed of twisted and blackened wood – which I claimed. Examining the enchantment I laughed softly, for I could now see why it had had no effect; it was a spell to disintegrate armour, and I wore none. Such a staff was unlikely to serve me well, however it would fetch a high price. The body of the Lich also held the key to all the locked doors, so my broken picks had been in vain. Gazing upon the empty chamber a word sprang unbidden into my mind, 'Miscarcand'. Intuitively I knew this to be the name of this place, although how I knew this I did not know. I spent my final moments searching the creatures tomb – before finally ascending to the surface.

I had entered in the late evening and it was late evening now; how much time had passed within? I was weary beyond measure, and suspected that I had spent a full day searching the interior. Such was my fatigue that I stumbled towards Skingrad without break, again wishing I had a faster mode of transport.

At last arriving at Skingrad I briefly approached the master of the stables regarding prices; their 'bay' horses were a mere thousand – but I felt confident that I could buy the black horse I wished for with the earnings of this most recent haul. Entering the west gate I dragged myself to the mages guild in the northern section of town, before finally collapsing into a bed, and a dreamless sleep.