Kvaasik - The Cold Front

1 - The Rise of Thras
2 - The Cold Front
3 - Change in Wardrobe

(100 Septims for anyone who can figure out what S'Gast's spell translates to)

S’Gast prepared a long-range teleportation spell to transport me to Skyrim. He also crafted a small candle, fashioned from Sload larvae and polwygles, to act as an anchor to my homeland when burned and will return me to Thras should I need to. I tucked the candle into one of my pockets (who knew elves had so many pockets?). As a cautious Sload, I had also taken precautions to negate the side-effects of shapeshifting artifacts such as the Tars Mogrif; wandering Nirn for eternity as a hideous elf is hardly how I would like to spend the rest of my days. Our meticulousness will pay off in the end, when the Sload rule all.

Now prepared, S’Gast cast the spell. He bellowed in ancient Sloadish: “Dio dakh Vermauw, alkonduku al so rando dakh so cielo.” A violet light enveloped me, twisting around my body as if it was confused at my strange shape. The light became brighter, nearly blinding, and I simply vanished from Thras.

I fluttered open my eyes. The air around me was frightfully cold, the silt beneath me moist with frigid seawater. I was lying face down on some shore, presumably in Skyrim. I pushed on the ground with my arms, only to be greeted with a rush of nausea that forced me back down. Long-distance teleportation can be unruly, so I suppose nausea is to be expected. I stood up once again, this time much slower and more cautiously to stave off dizziness. I glanced around at my surroundings; vast sea stretched out to one side of me with massive ice floes rising from the water in the distance. On the other side of me, blankets of snow thickly coated the ground.

Skyrim appears to have a much colder climate than what the Sload are used to. I shivered in this chill; I should find a town soon to stay in for the night, as it was approaching dusk, when the air would be even colder. I saw distant wisps of smoke rising into the air and over the snowscape. I walked slowly towards the smoke as the rooves of buildings and frosted caps of stone walls unfurled from behind the roiling hills, forming a city. The wooden structures were built around an inky black gulf, perhaps because that was an important source of trade. Regardless, I strode towards the town, partially for knowledge and partially for warmth.

As I approached what seemed to be the town chief’s home, I saw three figures arguing about something. Two figures were at the foot of the stairs, one in blue cloth and the other in steel armor. The other human was dressed in more ornate clothing with a fur collar, standing opposite to the others. I eavesdropped as I inched closer. “Who are we hurting with our old war wounds, Skald? We’re proud of our service in the Legion.” The voice was high-pitched, coming from the blue-clad human. The embellished human spoke next, in a raspy voice akin to humans at the end of their lives. “The Stormcloaks are destined to win this war, and I won’t have any Imperial spies ruining that! If I catch you sending a single letter to General Tullius, I’ll have both of your heads!”

A war? Perhaps this was the instability that S’Gast had augured. As the blue-clad female walked away in my direction, tailed by the armored male (I am getting better at detecting genders), I stopped them to ask what the argument was about, pouring as much pretend compassion into my voice as I could manage. The blue-clothed human responded, “The Jarl, Skald the Elder, thinks that we are Imperial spies just because we once fought as Legionnaires. He doesn’t want anyone threatening the all-Nord rule that the Stormcloaks promised.”

Stormcloaks? Nord? I did not understand what these words meant. “What are ‘Stormcloaks’?” I asked the female again, who was becoming agitated at my ignorance. “You must be new to Skyrim. The Stormcloaks, led by Ulfric Stormcloak of Windhelm, want to rid Skyrim of the Empire and elves such as yourself. They think that Skyrim only belongs to the natives of Skyrim, the Nords, and thinks that any other race is an enemy.”

This is great news. Such a war could be the perfect pressure point to push this land into Sload control. And, with so many casualties in this war, we could raise an army that rivals the entire Imperial Legion itself. Of course, there are many other things to research while in Skyrim. For instance, these ‘Nords’ should be studied further to discover their weaknesses and strengths; perhaps I should abduct one as a sample.

Research should be easy enough with the Tars Mogrif; they would never expect their doom to come in such a familiar form.