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tabletoptrinketsbyjj · 3 years

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Trinkets, 42: Interesting baubles, semi magical objects and items touched by mystery.

A talisman depicting a forgotten deity from a bygone era. If you held to the ear, the bearer can hear faint murmurings.

A rudimentary tripwire consisting of a length of thin string wrapped around two small sharpened, wooden stakes along with a length of tiny, ash-darkened, copper bells that can be wrapped around the tripwire. The trap can cover an area five feet in length.

A one gallon keg curiously labelled “Mudder's Milk” on its lid. The keg is filled with a batch of stout beer so dark, dense and filling that it could pass for a soup in bad lighting. The beverage has all the proteins, vitamins and carbs of a full course of your grandmother's best turkey dinner plus 15% alcohol. The keg contains enough beer to serve as 2d4+1 days’ worth of trail rations.

A map of the local tavern, showing several levels of basement below it. The last three levels are crossed out and "don't go here" is written in pencil.

A single black envelop upon which is a single silver glyph, lightly afire. You do not recognize the language, nor even the alphabet of the burning symbol. Regardless, while touching the mysterious inscription you are instinctively aware of its meaning, as if the words were branded with eldritch fire directly on the grey matter of your soft humanoid brain; "VACATION APPROVED”. You know in your mind exactly what it says. You wish you did not know. If you are able to ken the ancient eldritch script of the elder primordial beings from before recorded time, you are able to understand that the note was written by an unknown number of entities known as “Station Management”.

A sheet of parchment with a black handprint and the words "We Know" written underneath it.

A lustrous black flask inlaid with a silver skull pattern. It is plugged with a skull-shaped stopper with reflective red eyes. To complete its menacing appearance, the eyes glow slightly in dim light. Knowledgeable PC's can determine that the viscous green fluid the flask contains is actually an antivenin for the treatment of giant spider bites.

A clean steel sap spigot that can be rammed into a tree in order to allow it to pour forth the sap inside.

A silver chain on which hangs a polished silver bell the size of a thimble. At one point in the bearer's life, the bell will ring three times, producing three bursts of silvery sound with a brief silence after each. The vibrations that shiver through the bearer's body will seem much too strong to have been produced by such a tiny clapper. This squared trio of ringing heralds that great danger will soon befall the bearer from which he is unlikely to survive.

A painting of gnolls gambling with playing cards.

—Keep reading for 90 more trinkets.

—Note: The previous 10 items are repeated for easier rolling on a d100.

A talisman depicting a forgotten deity from a bygone era. If you held to the ear, the bearer can hear faint murmurings.

A map of the local tavern, showing several levels of basement below it. The last three levels are crossed out and "don't go here" is written in pencil.

A sheet of parchment with a black handprint and the words "We Know" written underneath it.

A clean steel sap spigot that can be rammed into a tree in order to allow it to pour forth the sap inside.

A painting of gnolls gambling with playing cards.

A carved stone plate with horrifying pictographic symbols etched into it.

An unremarkable silver coin whose faces sport two expressions. One face is joyfully exuberant, and the other is depressingly dour.

A deck of playing cards that will always deal the worst possible hands to all players.

A simple silver key with “Guest Room” etched finely on the handle.

A pouch of very small bones that can be fitted together to form a strange, highly complex and obviously occult symbol.

A small hourglass holding enough sand to mark the passage of one minute. The bases are made from obsidian flecked with gold and carved to resemble a long-fingered hand holding the hourglass at each end. The glass itself is made from fine crystal and the sand inside is red.

A small dark rock (Two inches in diameter) that was naturally formed into the shape of a demonic creature with bat wings folded around its body. It is semi-translucent with a dark center that sometimes seems to move. Occasionally it seems to whisper. If one listens closely, the whisper can be understood, but it is a foul and evil entreaty to do some horrible act. A bearer who chooses to obey these instructions, never feel remorse or guilt during or after carrying out the horribly despicable and particularly sadistic actions. Should a bearer who performs evil deeds at the stone’s bequest lose the rock or stops carrying it on his person, the awareness, guilt and shame of his evil deeds comes back to him all at once and he is thrown into deep despair.

A silver hand mirror ornately engraved on both sides; one side bears a frowning mask, while the opposite bears a smiling one. There doesn't appear to be an actual mirrored surface, despite its shape.

A figurine made of twisted fragments of copper wire. It is in the shape of a bird-headed human and although it seems to be many hundreds of years old. Extremely knowledgeable PC’s are able to determine that it is in fact a fake that has been aged to appear antique. Nevertheless, it will still fool anybody who is not an expert on the art of the period. Its metal value is only a handful of copper but it can be sold for a good deal more to the right (i.e. uninformed) buyer.

A walking stick, shod with silver and with the head of an eagle as its handle. The eagle’s head once had two garnets for eyes but these have long since become mislaid. If the head is grasped firmly and unscrewed, it will reveal a long but thin container which can be used to store liquor.

A bulbous flask of opaque white glass filled with a slightly syrupy fluid that’s a deep, warm golden color, almost metallic looking.

A mask bearing a dread visage crafted of wrought iron and set, is perpetually set with a sneering saturnine face.

A pair of goggles with hexagonal mineral lenses of a sharp yellow hue, secured in bronze frames, with a black leather strap that feels slightly scaly and slimy. They give off a faint odor of rotten eggs if sniffed directly.

A dagger sized scabbard containing strips of natural sea sponges on its interior. By carefully pouring a dose of poison into the empty scabbard (An action equivalent to attacking), the bearer can saturate the sponges with the toxin, which keeps it viable and wet for up to four hours. When a dagger is drawn from the sheath, it is automatically envenomed as if the liquid was applied directly. The bearer can also pour holy water or flammable oil into the sheath but acids will destroy the sponges. This kind of item is usually illegal in areas that outlaw poison.

A large mummified paw of long dead beast. Dried blood stains the fur around the petrified claws which are still razor sharp.

A deep violet sash made of silk adorned with gold embroidery of imps and succubi dancing with each other.

A small metallic whistle with a single blowhole. The pipe is divided into a number of twisted and interlocking tubes, with many holes for the air to exit. This strange configuration produces a cacophonous mess of simultaneous sounds when blown.

A matching shaker set of celestial salt and abyssal pepper.

A hooded lantern that is painted rather intricately with a house cat motif depicting cats playing in different poses. It’s mostly painted in whites and pinks, and it has small scuff marks on one side.

A delicate bracelet, carved out of lapis lazuli, featuring the initials XER on the interior facing.

A dark leather and silk monstrous mask with jet eyes.

A jangling bracelet of tiny golden bells and fine-toothed cogs on crimson silk rope. It is suited to a small wrist interested in intricate mechanisms.

A glass jar containing a heart that continues to beat.

A plain-looking wooden bowl of water, which remains unnaturally still while inside it. Looking at one’s reflection in the water shows an idealized version of oneself, in accordance to the viewer’s ideals. Perhaps by lowering one’s head into the bowl for long enough, one can gain insight into how to become the self seen in the bowl.

A silver oak leaf cloak clasp, edged and highlighted with gold.

An ancient drinking horn crafted from some extinct beast. Those who drink from it have dreams of being a huge predator roaming unchallenged through a prehistoric landscape.

A detailed sketch of a cross section of a brain, with a long foreign object being inserted through the front. Labelled fig 2: proper extraction positioning.

A bunch of scrapped papers that, if unfolded, reveal badly written poems describing the writer's deep love for a womanly shaped rock existing in a nearby forest.

A heavy copper belt buckle resembling an axe head.

A wistful portrait of a singular dark mountain on a broad plain, trees covering the top third of it and nowhere else, far higher than trees ever normally grow on a mountain. The middle of the mountain sports two large overhangs of rock above deep depressions, not quite caves. A stream flows down the bottom third of the mountain, splitting its flow around an overhang that shelters a massive cavern entrance that goes who knows how deep.

An aged obsidian fruit knife with bronze handle.

A piece of exotic wood, carved to look like a quill, with a gold tip. Its purpose is obviously ceremonial and no doubt used for signing important decrees or documents, as it is awkward to write with.

A silver and brass mirror with lewd designs hidden around the frame.

A gilded oil lamp with ornate scrollwork cutouts of a warrior, and an evil sorcerer, meant to cast shadows on the wall in their shape.

A blood red mask made from carefully sculpted bone, shaped to look like the face of a grinning demon.

A fist sized piece of jagged garnet. The deep crimson and maroon gemstone pulses faintly and smells of blood.

A lyre crafted from wood from the vale of shadows that emits a slight ringing at all times and a subtle glow of green when it is played.

A leather pouch containing dozens of petrified raven's claws with the talons splayed outwards. If scattered across an area the stony claws function as caltrops in every respect.

An old copper door knocker fashioned to resemble the face of an eldritch creature. It is always cold to the touch.

A two-foot-long wooden rod bearing a silver wolf’s-head at the tip, and its length is inscribed with moon-sigils.

A small, masterfully crafted toy carriage made of stained black walnut complete with leather driver's seat and interior upholstered in crushed velvet. Anyone who stops to admire the detail of the model in detail has the urge to break one of the wheels, first starting as a fleeting thought but gradually grows to consume their thoughts causing insomnia the longer they resist the urge. The wheel is instantly repaired any time the toy goes unnoticed.

A crimson monkey skull weighing four pounds, carved entirely from blood garnet. An aura of feral sentience draws your gaze to its empty eye sockets.

A rolled scroll on which was hastily scribbled hymn, full of zeal. It says that it is only in rapturous frenzy that the spirit exhibits grace. At this moment, we are freed from doubt, acting only in accordance with the divine, immaculate will.

An ornate token from an opulent land. When held, one feels aided by forces paid for dearly. Surely, no cost is too high for triumph?

An inflamed gland that's little more than an engorged, muscular lump, radiating heat. The repellent hunk of flesh pulses with a warm, wet heat like an exhaled breath. The gland's presence consumes the senses. One's head begins to ache with a feverish intensity the longer it is held.

A scalpel with a wide blade, etched with a diagram of a human body on each side. One side features a chart of the circulatory system, and the other a layout of the muscles and tendons.

A glass disk that depict constellations.

A votive candle holder in the shape of a lighthouse.

A jawbone from a mammalian beast, a handspan in length with dozens of tiny needle-like teeth arranged like a pincushion

A surprisingly light, cobalt blue, metal cube the length of a hand. The many holes on its surface appear to resemble stars in the night sky.

A small sea chest, locked securely. The key is probably somewhere close by. Inside are a dozen glass bottles containing extremely rare and valuable spices. Unfortunately, they are so old as to be unfit for any purpose, and only identifiable by their labels.

A small, cork-stoppered crystal bottle with a disproportionately low and fat belly and slender neck containing a ruby colored liquid with an overwhelming odor of citrus. Tasting the liquid brings forth visions of standing atop a pyramid in a desert land, overlooking a sprawling city on a broad river flanked by irrigated farms.

A thumb-sized bronze horned owl. When the head is turned clockwise three full rotations, it flaps its wings and makes hooting noises as the head rotates back.

A soapstone dragon turtle paperweight with a tiny flag on its back that blows in whatever direction the wind is currently blowing in outdoors.

An unfinished, highly complex nautical knot made with a length of ship's line.

A horse-shaped bottle, made of iron, with eagles of gold and genuine lapis lazuli as inlays.

A clay piece with a drawing of a woman and baby standing next to a solider in uniform.

A pouch of small medicinal vials labelled with different names, with a handwritten note detailing dosages and urgency in delivery.

A letter addressed from an orphanage, informing the the recipient that they believe they've located their child, who was believed dead after a prolonged siege. They are asking the dead person to arrive as soon as possible, as dwindling budgets are forcing them to send their older children to work houses.

A pottery vase decorated with images of a foot race.

A glass eye with an azurite iris and obsidian pupil.

A one gallon cask of Seabeast Poison, an alcoholic beverage found mostly in coastal taverns. This mixture is almost black with a white, frothy foam on top. It's said the original recipe included venom from the poison sacs of a rare sea creature. The exact creature varies from tale to tale and the modern recipe surely doesn't include this venom.... Right?

An engraved geode that has been split apart into two equal halves. A labyrinth is carved into the rock's rough exterior and glows with a faint light.

A beautiful deck of cards resting in a strong leather pouch with an etching of a joker on the outside. The same etching is on the back of the cards.

A strange wand that is visually translucent, but when held closely, one can hear the sound of a light spring rain.

A glass figurine of a unicorn with a chalcedony horn.

A pair of pearl earrings held in eagle claw settings.

A humorous ensorcelled cartoon strip about Cernuous Cedric the slug-about-town, a languorous libertine known for his lechery, taste for strong drink, and allergy to any form of labor. The strip speaks and animates when read, telling the story of one of Cedric’s disastrous affairs with the husband of Mordiggia, the Charnel Goddess.

An amber belt buckle with knot pattern.

An ancient hieroglyphic tablet made out of some type of reflective metal that can float in water and makes a strange echoing hollow sound when struck.

A small glass bulb that gives off a bit of bluish light when touched. The light it shines counts as moonlight for the purpose of revealing things.

A cherry wood mandolin with strings of different colors. Each note played on this mandolin blends euphoniously with the notes played before it, forming a pleasing melody regardless of which strings are plucked.

A beaten copper death mask with garnet eyes.

A small statue of a great old one carved from an unknown type of greenish stone.

A copper serving pot edged and highlighted with silver depicting the labors of a famous hero.

A hardy wine bottle that is completely opaque and holds a strong, deep red, fruity alcohol.

A simple leather pouch that has several charred humanoid bones in it and a small dusting of ashes. There is no smell of smoke though, so they must be quite old.

A pure white face mask with pewter trim around its edges. It is sculpted into what could be called a bird head with an unusually short beak, also covered in pewter, but with delicate filigree.

A large blue banner decorated with a flaring yellow crest and mounted on the end of a ten foot brass pole. It is meant to be the standard used to keep the morale of the troops high as its valiantly held aloft.

A large ceramic jar covered in silver leaf.

A brass candelabra etched with filigree pattern.

A bar of rough soap made from ground pumice, and a little bit goes a long way. Light gray in color, it scrubs off trail dust, sweat, and blood with equal ease, leaving behind a clean, slightly dusty scent.

A tiny dead sparrow, wrapped delicately in giant green leaves.

A four inch long, plain, pocket pen carved from giant's tooth enamel, tipped with a gold-vanadium nib, and silver cap.

An item that appears at first glance to be no more than a simple burlap doll with no hair or clothes in the shape of humanoid. The doll's wicked grin and black sapphire eyes tell keen observers a different tale.

A heavy brass torc ending in clenched fists.

A copper door knocker of a celestial with twin amber eyes.

A tin bucket without a label, filled with what appears to be loose teeth. A closer look confirms the contents: dozens of molars, bicuspids, incisors, canines. Human teeth. Enough to fill at least five or six mouths. Resting on top of the pile is a rusted pair of iron pliers.

A swirly mahogany wand that changes to a different color every night at midnight.

Innocent Lockpicks: A set of nondescript masterwork thieves' tools coated in a matte black lacquer, that seems brittle enough to break. They are favored by spies and thieves that cannot afford to be caught with the tools of their trade. As an action equivalent to drawing a weapon, the bearer can break the brittle coating of the tools, causing them to dissolve into a puff of smoke, destroying the evidence of any wrongdoing. Because of their fragile nature these tools have a chance of breaking. If the bearer rolls a natural 1 while using the tools, there is a 25% chance that the tools snaps and dissolves in his hands. The item's properties are wholly mundane and do not register as magical.

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whispersafterdusk · 5 years

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In Your Hands - ch 8

There weren't words to describe how wonderful it felt to feel the wind on his face again.

The last three weeks were something of a blur; they'd finally found the Blackreach and had traveled through it's strange beauty until they'd stumbled upon a dwemer home where some long-forgotten scholar had stayed. Among the abandoned belongings they'd found a journal with maps that not only detailed the ruins they'd just traveled through but also had a map of Blackreach and the places beyond it as well.

They'd stayed there a night to allow Serana to feed again and Ralsten to recover from it, then had set out with considerably better moods now that they had a clear idea of where to go and what was ahead of them.

They'd eventually ended up in a large, circular room that had a massive metal orb in it with glass (emerald?) lenses set into sliding rings that moved around the orb, and curved metal arms tipped with identical lenses hanging from a circular support on the ceiling; surrounding it were desks and chairs with crumbling writings that had long since become impossible to read. The ceiling itself was lined with hexagonal and diamond-shaped sections of polished sapphire, or perhaps lapis lazuli, and the center most tile was -- they weren't sure if it was an open space that reached clear to the surface or some other sort of dwemer light source, but it shined a bright white that was too harsh to look at for long.

On a little platform overlooking the orb and the desks was a series of...Ralsten hadn't really had a name for them. They were a cluster of five rounded pedestals that had buttons set into their tops, next to one that stood apart that had a opening on top that could only have been for the lexicon they carried; they were odd in that they were colored as and looked like all the metal they'd seen up to this point, but when Ralsten touched one they felt rough, like stone -- it seemed time hadn't been kind to these and they were pockmarked and dusty. When Serana had slipped the lexicon into place two buttons had whirred and flipped over to reveal their tops were set with brilliantly blue stones that were somehow warm to the touch.

Ralsten had pushed the one nearest him and the giant orb had groaned to life, shifting in place as the rings spun. Pressing it again had made the other two buttons flip up too, leaving them staring at four buttons and no clear idea on what they did or what they were supposed to do.

"We need to try and line them up," Serana had suggested soon after, leafing through the scholar's journal. "I think that's what this man was trying to do, but we have a lexicon and he did not."

Through a lot of lengthy, embarrassing trial and error they had pressed the buttons until finally the lenses above lined up with those below and correctly redirected the bright beams of light. The circular part attached to the ceiling swung a huge, roughly diamond-shaped green glass object down to the center of the orb as all the other parts aligned to form a path to walk up to it.

As they approached the glass diamond opened and balancing within it on hooks was the Elder Scroll; Ralsten had reverently taken it from the hooks and turned to grin back at Serana, then noticed that a door panel in the stone behind her - a part of the wall underneath where the button pedestals were - had slid open. Beyond it was a short hallway to a room with just a lever and exposed cogs, as well as a ribbed metal indentation in the walls that the cogs fit into. The lever made the cogs lurch to life and the platform had steadily (and slowly) carried them out of the ruins and out into the biting cold of Skyrim.

There was an abandoned campsite just outside of the tower they stepped from - a pair of tents, a fire pit mostly buried in snow, and some chairs at a table were visible, and there were a few telling piles of snow that suggested where the persons who'd set up these things had disappeared to.

"Any idea where we are?" Serana asked.

Ralsten very carefully climbed up a rocky outcrop and peered at the landscape around them. "-no, not really. But I think I see a path that way. We'll probably find a road if we follow it, and if we find a road then we'll find signs pointing us to the nearest town eventually." He turned around and slid down the outcrop on his backside. "It's already getting dark though."

"We can go looking for it in the morning. I'd rather not be stumbling around in the dark looking for a path we might miss."

There was a sack of potatoes and some leeks they found frozen in a chest inside the largest tent; Ralsten cleared away the snow from the fire pit and, though it was a real pain to get the wood to catch fire, set about roasting the potatoes and leeks together inside the iron pot that hung above the pit.

"Seems like forever since I've had warm food," he chuckled.

"Or an open sky and a fire. I never thought I'd enjoy the smell of burning wood, but after those ruins..."

Ralsten nodded and blew out a long sigh. "At least now you've seen exactly why I don't like dwemer places."

She smiled teasingly at him. "And also why you managed to get lost in them."

The next morning came quickly; Ralsten sipped a cup of plain hot water to get some warmth back into him before they set out as Serana sat nearby on one of the abandoned bed rolls in the tent.

"That's one," he said into the silence. "Now we just need the one your mother either has, or knows of."

She nodded. "Wherever she is. I can't imagine a single place my father would avoid looking...and he's had all this time too. If he hasn't found her, I don't know how we will."

Nodding slowly, he combed a hand through his hair and beard, smoothing it all back into place before moving to start strapping his armor back on. "Somewhere he'd never look... If she's not sealed away, would she have gone to hide with someone?"

"Like who?"

"Would she have gone to the Dawnguard, like you did?"

Serana laughed. "I doubt she would waste her time with those fools. They probably would have tried to kill her, and that has a way of souring relationships. Any other ideas?"

Ralsten shook his head and continued to buckle and tighten down his armor.

When he later went to shove the tent flap open he paused, then turned back to Serana. "What about...what about in the castle?"

"...what?"

"The castle. Your home. 'Someplace he would never search.' That castle is a big place -- are there any places in it that she could be hiding without being noticed? Your father wouldn't likely think to search his own stronghold, if he's looking for someone who fled."

"Wait...that almost makes sense!" Serana replied after a moment, looking excited. "I used to help my mother tend a garden in the courtyard. All of the ingredients for our potions came from there...she used to say my father couldn't stand the place. It was too...peaceful."

Ralsten stepped out into the snow and crunched along for a few steps. "It does ring with a certain sense...but then, isn't that risky? Would she actually do something like that?"

"Oh, absolutely. My mother's not a coward." She moved out behind him, tugging her hood into place; the handle of the Scroll stuck up over her shoulder and glinted softly in the early morning sun. "I don't think we'll actually trip over her there, but it's worth a look. She may have left some clue as to where she's gone."

"I'm willing to try, but...your father isn't going to let us use the front door, I don't think."

"True. But I know a way we can get to the courtyard without arousing suspicion." At his skeptical look she smiled. "Trust me. I lived there for a very long time and I know every nook and cranny."

"What's your plan, then?"

"There's an unused inlet on the northern side of the island that was used by the previous owners to bring supplies into the castle. An old escape tunnel from the castle exits there. I think that's our way in."

"It's as good a plan as any." He started to trot through the snow, heading toward the the hill that he thought led down to the path he'd spied the previous evening. "We'll need to stop somewhere and resupply and ah...probably should go secure that Scroll somewhere."

"Where would you suggest?"

"Well, depending on which we're closer to, either to the fort or back to Solitude. I've places enough to hide that thing, and if we "sneak" in at night the only ones that should see us would be the guards."

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"The castle looks so big from down here. I mean, it is big, but well...even bigger."

"Did you spend a lot of time down here?"

Ralsten carefully edged the boat up to the rocky shoreline and used an oar to shove them up onto the sand; they'd decided to come in in broad daylight - a time where the castle's inhabitants would be asleep - and he was thankful for that as he wasn’t sure he would have been able to see any sort of clear area to land otherwise.

Serana waited until she'd gotten out of the boat to reply. "I like to explore. My parents almost never let me off the island, so yeah, I poked around down here a lot. It was pretty quiet back then...guess a little girl was enough to scare off the rats."

"That sounds pretty lonely."

She didn't respond immediately. "It was. But I got used to it."

"You were lonely a lot, weren't you?"

"Growing up the way I did, you got used to it."

He glanced back at her. "Do you still feel that way?"

She stared up at the imposing castle, then met his gaze again. "A little bit. That's...one of the reasons I wanted to come with you. ...what about you?"

"What about me?"

They began to trudge in closer to the cliff walls, moving as carefully and quietly as they could over the slick rocks and sludgy sand.

"Do you get lonely? Are there...many people in your life you're close to?"

Ralsten chuckled. "There's my daughter...I try to treat her as best as I can, even though I'm not home much. As for close friends -- it's something complicated. There's a lot of people in Solitude and elsewhere that know my name and face, and are friendly enough. But they're just...people I know. Acquaintances. I know nothing of them and they know nothing of me beyond my being a merchant who happens to explore more than he probably should." He looked over his shoulder at her, then turned forward again to hop over a deep puddle between two rocks. "Strangely enough, even though I've known you for less time than anyone else, I'd say you know more of me than anyone. And, for what it's worth, it's been rather pleasant to have someone at my side and watching my back while adventuring. I'm - well, I'm glad you're with me."

The look she gave him was one of surprise that tinged with embarrassment, but she smiled as she cleared the same puddle. "Me too. Anyway...this is all very touching, but we have some more important things to worry about right now."

Ralsten laughed and turned his attention back to navigating the rocks and leading the way around to the inlet she'd described; a very tiny stone dock had been built into the island here and there was a sunken ship blocking the way in by water. They stepped from sand onto stone and rounded the corner only to hear a growl and a creaking noise.

The docks appeared to be three tiers tall and standing at the railing at the very top was a skeleton clad in a ragged cape and hood, and was pulling back the string on its bow as the arrow's tip tracked toward them.

"Of course," Ralsten growled, drawing his maces and rushing forward.

The skeleton's attention followed him, the arrow drawn and ready to fire; Serana hit it with an ice spike and shattered one of its arms off, sending the shot wide as the hand holding the arrow fell away.

There were more rattling noises and suddenly skeletons were emerging from behind broken crates and out of what he assumed had to be some kind of gatehouse he hadn't noticed before - a waterfall roared off its top but from the little stone room beneath it came three skeletons armed with swords.

He charged into that group and managed to bash one in the skull with his buckler, sending it careening into the water and sinking from view. The other two split and attempted to flank him; as the elf parried one the other clanged its sword against his armor -- it left Ralsten shaking from the force and he could see where the sword hit by the little indent left in the steel.

Behind him he heard the familiar sounds of Serana's spellcasting and as he battled the two skeletons before him from above came a shower of broken bone and shattering ice. He blocked another overhead swing from the skeleton to his left with a mace and then slapped the haft of his other mace over the blade, twisting and ripping it out of the skeleton's hands and sending it clattering across the stone. He was peppered with bone fragments as Serana blasted another shard of ice through that one's rib cage, sending the entire construct crumpling to the ground in a disconnected heap.

An arrow fired from above him then and got caught in the fur lining around the neck of his breastplate; Ralsten hissed in surprise at the precise shot and knew he'd be dead if not for the armor he wore. He suddenly charged forward again, tackling the remaining skeleton and driving it backward and into the relative cover of what he'd thought was a gatehouse but found was just a covered area that permitted you to walk from one side of the dock to the other without getting soaked by the waterfall.

He skidded to a halt and began to wrestle with it, each trying to grapple the other. After several fruitless minutes of trying to get a hand hold Ralsten finally slammed his body up against the other, over and over again, forcing it into the wall until enough pieces broke off that the magic animating the bones dissipated and the skeleton fell lifeless to the ground.

Outside, just barely audible over the waterfall, he could hear Serana casting; the sharp sounds of the ice firing off was interspersed with the noise of lightning being thrown -- there still had to be skeletons somewhere above them.

He'd not seen any stairs on the side of the docks they'd entered from; inside this covered area was a set of steps that led upward but they were blocked by a small cave in. The wood elf hurried through the other doorway and saw a set of stairs ahead of him that went up to the second tier and he assumed would somehow get him up to the third as well. He ran up the stairs and almost collided with another skeleton - this one clad in ancient Nord armor and with a sword and shield in hand - as it stepped from the wreckage of the coffin it had burst out of.

Ralsten swung both maces in an overhead arc and the skeleton caught them on its shield, stabbing at him from underneath the shield's edge. The elf rotated his hips and dodged, dancing to the side and bringing the mace in his left hand over horizontally at the skeleton's shield arm, his right arm up and ready to catch any follow up swing on the haft of his mace.

The skeleton lowered the shield just enough to deflect the mace but stepped to the side quickly afterward; Ralsten and the skeleton circled one another briefly before the skeleton closed in while bringing his shield's edge down to crack against Ralsten's arm as the man tried to slam the head of his mace into the skeleton's hip, then it slammed the pommel of its sword into Ralsten's helm, right in the forehead.

The blow staggered him some and put him just off balance enough that the skeleton's next shield bash knocked him to a knee. He managed to get both maces up into a crossed position to catch the sword between them before it could smack him in the helm again; shoving upward Ralsten got enough space between him and the skeleton to get back to his feet and jump back to avoid the sword as it jabbed forward, then threw his hips back as the jab turned into a slice at his stomach. He wasn't especially worried about the sword actually hitting him as he knew there wasn't a remote chance that it could get through the steel, but the fewer bruises he ended up with the better.

He heard footsteps pounding up the stairs as he parried another two thrusts and knocked the shield aside with his buckler; with a loud crack the skeleton's shield arm shattered and an ice shard skimmed off Ralsten's upper arm as it blasted through the skeleton and kept going.

The loss of the arm did little to deter the skeleton but it did leave it with a gaping hole in its defense; Ralsten took advantage of its inability to defend its right side and pirouetted to bring both maces around to slam into the hip and ribs, taking a final blow to the shoulders from the sword before the skeleton's top separated from its bottom as the spine snapped in half and the animating spell broke.

Panting, Ralsten looked over to see Serana standing halfway up the stairs. "Is that all of them?"

"I think so."

He could feel sweat running off his scalp and down his neck, already beginning to chill. "Let's get inside and get to your mother's garden as quickly as possible. If your father had these things out here to protect this entrance then it means he hasn't forgotten about it."

Serana nodded in agreement and led the way up the stairs to the third tier, which was a narrow balcony with a single door that led into the castle. She seemed worried that the door wasn't locked but slipped inside with Ralsten close behind.

The castle seemed to be less maintained here, and the halls were full of skeevers, the death hounds, and more skeletons and gargoyles. The further they went the more nervous Ralsten grew -- if all these creatures were down here (well...not the skeevers, those things could feasibly be anywhere) that definitely meant this wasn't a forgotten place and was knowingly guarded.

They moved as quickly as they could, destroying each thing that leapt out of the shadows at them, until finally they worked, shoulder to shoulder, to shove open an old, rusted, incredibly tall door that spilled them outside into a courtyard.

The place was overgrown and blooming in some places and in others it was choked with dead plants; there were a few patios to either side but the chairs, tables, and even some of the heavy planters had been shattered and tossed aside. There was a small pond nestled between one patio and the courtyard's wall ahead of them, and in the middle of the garden was an enormous sundial -- it was corroded and filthy. Ralsten could imagine that this place had once been lush and beautiful, but now...

"Oh no," Serana said quietly. "What happened to this place? Everything's been torn down... the whole place looks...dead. It's like we're the first to set foot here in centuries." She looked toward one of the other doors. "This used to lead into the castle's great hall...it looks like my father had it sealed up. I used to walk through here after evening meals. It was beautiful, once. This was my mother's garden. It... do you know how beautiful something can be when it's tended by a master for hundreds of years? She would have hated to see it like this." She walked forward, moving up to the sundial and placing a hand gently to it. "Wait... Something's wrong with-"

"Look who has come home at last."

Both she and Ralsten froze as the deep voice echoed through the courtyard; Lord Harkon faded into view, looking down his nose at them from where he stood atop the upper level of one of the patios.

"Father..." Serana whispered.

He began to slowly stalk down the stairs, his boots loud upon the stone. "And I see you have the mortal with you that I specifically remember banishing."

Ralsten twitched, intending to slowly move his hand down to rest on the handle of a mace on his belt; Harkon seemed to vanish in the span of a blink and suddenly reappeared in front of the elf, hitting him with an open handed slap that lifted him from his feet and sent him crashing to the ground several feet away.

"Father!" Serana shouted. She moved as though she was rushing to Ralsten's side, only to be restrained by two others appearing just as suddenly as Harkon had -- a brown haired, bearded Nord man stood to her right, a white haired and wiry Altmer to her left, both seizing an arm and holding her in place.

"Stop! Father!"

Ralsten rolled to his feet, his head ringing from the blow. Harkon was already on top of him, a blade flashing in the light as it swung in and angled for what gap there might be between helm and shoulder; the elf threw himself into a roll but Harkon kept right on top of him. He caught the tip of the sword on his buckler and aimed a kick at the man's legs; the vampire skillfully dodged the kick and took a few steps back, then to Ralsten's horror his form shifted and grew -- grew taller, grew stronger, grew wings, fangs, and claws.

Before he could get to his feet Harkon was atop him again; he first ripped Ralsten's helmet off and tossed it aside then grabbed the collar of his armor in a two handed grip and lifted the elf like he weighed nothing, throwing him toward the pond where Ralsten landed on his back against a rock jutting from the water -- the impact blasted the air from his lungs and left him stunned, unable to fend off the vampire lord as he stood over him again and seized him by the throat with one hand, the other digging fingers down underneath the collar of the armor.

Ralsten clamped his hands around the lord's arm, struggling to pry his fingers from around his throat; with a strength he feared for a moment would snap his neck Harkon ripped the breastplate free and tossed it away.

"Did you really believe you could sneak into my home unnoticed, mortal?" Harkon hissed, his voice more guttural now with his altered form. His attention moved to where Serana still struggled against the two that restrained her. "And you...my own daughter, running about with unshackled cattle."

"Let him go," she bit out, trying to tear her arms free. The two vampires held firm.

Harkon stalked toward her, dragging Ralsten with a grip still around his neck; the wood elf choked and gasped, still desperately trying to free himself as he was strangled.

"Let him go?" Harkon repeated incredulously. "My dearest daughter, whatever makes you think I would let vermin run free about our home?" He loosened his grasp just enough to let Ralsten suck in a breath before tightening his fingers again. "And, please enlighten me - for what reason would you have to be in the company of this rat?"

"Let him go, father. He's -- he's been my travel companion. I left to explore." She sounded as desperate as Ralsten felt. "He's done nothing wrong."

"Wrong? There is no right or wrong with prey, my dear."

Harkon swung Ralsten forward, releasing his throat and knotting his other hand into the elf's hair as he kicked his feet out from under him, forcing him to kneel facing her.

"What were you doing here?" he growled.

Serana looked...stricken. Scared. "I-"

Ralsten winced as Harkon tightened his grip in his hair but continued to suck in raspy breaths.

"-I miss mother," Serana said finally. "This is the only place left of her, and..." She trailed off, looking pleadingly up at Harkon. "Just let him go."

"I spared him once. I do not intend to do so again."

"Father, please..."

Harkon went silent, studying her. Something softened in his expression, and he shifted forms back into his humanoid one (his grip on Ralsten did not falter, but now the elf was forced to lean backward slightly as Harkon shrunk in height). "...you always were one for keeping pets. If you want so very much to keep this...thing...in your company, he will be properly collared, or else he'll adorn the tables tonight."

Serana's expression hardened. "No. You will not kill him. You can't."

Harkon pulled back on Ralsten's hair, bending him even further and forcing him to stare up at the lord while also baring his neck quite openly to him; Ralsten reached up to grab his arm and found it just as unyielding as before.

"I can and I certainly will..." Harkon mused, but his attention stayed on Serana. "But, I am not so cruel as to deny my daughter a source of amusement, if that's what she truly desires. If you wish to keep your little pet, you will do it properly. Or else he is prey as any other."

At last the two vampires holding Serana let go but gave her a shove; she stumbled, then stood defiantly tall before her father.

Ralsten stared up at her; there was fear in his eyes and he had his jaw clenched.

"Well?" Harkon prompted. He pushed forward, lifting Ralsten up from his knees slightly; Ralsten winced at the movement.

Serana stared her father down, then lowered her gaze to her feet. "Fine. If you won't listen..."

"I will not have an unfettered mortal running about where he does not belong."

Serana nodded absently, jaw clenched. For several tense moments no one moved, then Serana stepped forward to lay her hands on Ralsten's shoulders.

The fear in his eyes changed to a resignation...an understanding. He dropped his arms to his sides and met her gaze evenly.

When the spell hit him she watched as everything faded from his eyes; they glazed over and all tension drained from him - Harkon released his hold and Ralsten swayed gently in Serana's grasp.

She leaned forward; as she'd done before she hovered over his neck, stomach twisting at what she was about to do. She'd fed from thralls before but this...this was -- this was different. This was Ralsten -- her rescuer, her guardian, her...her friend. And she'd led him back to this terrible place, and now...

She bit down and his blood spurted into her mouth; before when she'd fed she'd found it thick and sweet but this time it was as distasteful to her as the Falmer had been.

The moment she bit - the spell completed by the action - she felt a tingle in her mind. She knew, without really knowing or understanding how, that Ralsten was now firmly under her control -- any demands or orders she gave him he would carry out without hesitation. The thought was sickening, and guilt and shame flooded her.

Harkon let out a satisfied grunt and turned, gesturing to the two men that had appeared with him. "I will permit you to keep this pathetic thing -- none will touch him." The two others walked silently to the door and exited first; Harkon paused in the doorway, turning back to Serana.

"And do not think I haven't noticed the missing Scroll, daughter," he growled, tone dangerous. "You had best think of that while your pet keeps you company."

He swept out the door then, closing it with a barely noticeable click.

Serana waited until he'd left, then pressed her hands to either side of Ralsten's face; there was only recognition of his master in his eyes, nothing else...no sign of "him."

With a shaky exhale she pressed her forehead to his and closed her eyes.

#In Yours Hands #iyh #In Your Hands ch 8 #serana #dragonborn #bosmer #dawnguard #vampires #Ralsten #Harkon #thrall #AU #Skyrim

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