Wergar
“Where’s my armor and sword, Talen-Jei?” I asked. It had been two days since Opal’s attack on myself and the inn and have since made a full recovery. The Pantherlady had tried to strangle the Argonian couple, but thanks to their scales, they survived. Even Volwulf was recuperating very well; he was breathing without coughing up a storm.
“In the cellar. I’m heading after it now,” replied Talen. And with that, he disappeared underground. Keerava and I were sitting at one of the tables on the main floor. Wearing only my ring, and simple breeches, I was wanting to get my armor back. She didn’t know it, but I could feel Keerava studying me. Her eyes traced over all the battle wounds and scars from years past. So many scars to look over in so little time… I would have a field day explaining where they all came from. A few moments later, Talen returned carrying the Wolf armor and had Moonbrand tied around his waist.
“Here you are, Wergar. Even had the armor patched up too,” he said, handing the armor to me. Unfurling it, I saw that it was patched: the entry wounds at the chest, left shoulder and back were sowed back together with black stitching. It blended in very nicely with the fur-like material. I took a look at the wolf head on the right shoulder: it had a beautiful shine, reflecting the candle light and our faces.
Slipping it on, it felt great to be wearing it once more. Talen undid the sword’s fastener and handed the ancient blade over to me.
“Thank you. Who worked on patching my armor?” I asked. Though, I knew, Balimund worked on it; I could smell the smoke of the forge on the armor still.
“You really have to ask? I know you can smell The Scortched Hammer on it, the way the fur soaks up the smell like a sponge,” Keerava replied back. There was a hint snarky-ness in her reptilian voice.
I couldn’t help but to laugh. “How very true Keerava.” I had on all that was needed; turning toward the couple, I began. “Thank you both for everything. I’m sorry for that trouble with Opal two days ago.”
“Don’t worry about that.” Talen quickly interjected with a dismissive hand wave. “You had no idea she rescued you and would try to kill all of us. Most excitement we’ve had in a while.” The Argonian stifled a chuckle, but his dark humor was wasted on his wife and I. He continued, “But really, don’t worry about it. Friends help each other when needed.”
I gave them a smile. I helped them to be married by finding Talen-Jei the necessary amethysts he needed for the wedding band. A couple of weeks later, they were married. This time, it was they who helped me by nursing me back to health.
Saying my goodbyes to Talen and Keerava, I left for Opal. The Pantherlady had information. This information would help Skyrim survive if what I believe comes to pass. I pray to the gods I’m wrong.
Stepping out of the building, I was greeted by the sun; bright and shinning down upon everything below. Riften, a city of thieves, the Black-Briars and corruption, actually looked beautiful. If those three problems, or just the Black-Briars, were taken care of, this city and its residents could live without worrying. But alas, Maven and her kind were here to stay.
I began my long walk toward the prison; the quiet in the town was a nice mood setter. The closer I got to the center, the silence became more and more distant. Merchants left and right began to vie for my attention. Not wanting to stop, I politely refused all that offered me their goods and deals.
Finally reaching Mistveil Keep, I headed straight for the prison. When I entered, a guard took notice.
“Ah, hello Dragonborn.” The man said politely. “You are here for your prisoner, aren’t you?”
I nodded, “Yes. Which cell is she in?”
The jailer pointed down the hall. “Walk down the hall, then head downstairs. You’ll find her in the last cell on the left.” His hand was a little shaky, from what I could tell. Perhaps he was afraid of the Pantherlady, even though she was chained to the wall?
Following the jailer’s directions, I headed for Opal. Opening her cell with the key he gave me, she perked up immediately. Chained to the wall, her feet and hands were clamped shut. I knew the first thing that would come from her mouth?
“How?! How did you do that to me?!” Opal practically screamed her question.
“What?” I asked rather innocently. “Oh, you mean my blasting you to the wall? Well, that is a little something I picked up while being here in Skyrim.” Telling Opal about Skyrim legend would take a while to explain and even longer for her to comprehend it.
Opal began to calm down, just a little, and continued her question. “You picked up that kind of power here, in this province?”
“You could say that.” I mused to her. Playing with the Catlord’s mind was far too much fun on my end. Normally, I just put my ancient sword through her kinds’ chest. But with Opal, she was more valuable alive than dead. “Now, are we done with your questions on me, or… actually, your questions are done. I’m your interrogator today.” Oh the look that overcame her face was the best.
“You, my interrogator?” Her black-as-black skin lost some color, but not a lot. The skin still seemed to shimmer blue and purple with the candle light hit her. But, as quickly as it showed, the color was back. “You won’t do a thing to me and you know it, Wergar.”
“If you mean me torturing you with silver like your kind does, no. I’m better than that, Cat.” I sneered. Opal gave me a hiss, still showing resentment and resistance to me and the chains. “I plan on doing that a little differently. Far more humane than what your Felines do to your prisoners.”
The Pantherlady didn’t show any kind of fear. She and her brother, Onyx, share that trait. “Once I get out of these chains, dog, I swear to my Forefathers, you’ll be sorry.”
“Your fellow Catlords already took that what was most precious to me, bitch!” I shouted. “They took Lyssia from me… they took my family from me…” My eyes, though had the expression of anger, were beginning to soften with tears. Leopold’s soldiers took Amelie from me and my four children. The Lionguard started with my youngest child and worked their way up. I didn’t even get a chance to see them one last time. I couldn’t look at her, so I turned my head down.
Upon seeing this, Opal decided to play. “Oh, you’re still hooked on about that? That happened two years ago. When will you let it go?” She was a master at playing with one’s emotions, always enjoying to see one’s pain. How was I any different? “Your wife, oh how Leopold bragged on about how he ended her life. His father couldn’t get him to shut up about it either, the way he went on and on.”
My head shot up. My crestfallen look was replaced by one of rage. The look of thunder was etched onto my face, the head of the Wolf was beginning to replace my own. My knuckles were grinding popping, my hand becoming a great, clawed paw. “Don’t. You. DARE bring my wife into this!!” My right fist connected with the Panther’s jaw, leaving the mark of my ring and a loud crack that resonated off of the stone that made the cell and building. There was no doubt the other prisoners and guards could hear what was going on. They just didn’t have the courage to look or inquire what was going on.
The look of enjoyment on Opal’s face was replaced by one of shock and fear. And how quickly the mighty Pantherlady turned into a quivering little kitten. “Don’t… please don’t hurt me,” she said in a whispering voice. Blood from the opening began to slowly roll down her face, falling to the floor from her chin like a raindrop. I was quickly losing my patience with the woman.
“’Please don’t hurt me,’” I repeated. “Isn’t that what so many other men and women of Lyssia said when the Catlords attacked?” Opal was quiet, looking terrified to answer a raging Wolf King. “Answer me!!” She remained silent. “If that’s how you want to play, I can force it from you.”
Opal looked even more frantic, but there was another look in her eye. I narrowed my eyes, vying for an answer from her and her look. After a moment of silence, the Panther asked, “How do you intend to do that?”
I held up a hand. “One of two ways: I can use my Shouting to bend you to my will. Or, I will kill your family.” Her eyes widened with fear. I could tell she was thinking how I know if she had a family. “Everyone that has a family has a certain look about them. I still have the look, despite them being taken from me.” Opal turned her head away from my gaze. “You do have a family, don’t you?” she remained silent, turning her head further away. “You cannot deny it. Your body gesturers give it away.”
Opal suddenly sprang to life, anger and the Panther taking hold. “You touch my children, I promise you, Skyrim and YOU will suffer!” She yowled and hissed at me, wanting to tear my throat from my body. “My babies have done no wrong! They don’t deserve death!”
“Just like my children, witch! That’s what every mother and father says about their off spring,” I snapped. “They believe them to the clean and pure. That they are a beautiful jewel within an array of filth. But I promise you, I’ll get to your children one way or another, even if I must kill and raze to get to them. I’ll make sure your home in Bast is a replica of Lyssia, Panther.”
Lyssia is, was, the continent I hail from. My homeland had seven realms, similar to Skyrim’s holds: Westland, The Dalelands, The Badlands, The Longridings, Sturmland, Omir, and The Barebones. One by one, they were destroyed by the invading Catlords after they had taken Westland from me. The people resisted, not wanting to bow to the cruelty of the Felinethropes. After they stomped out the rest of the resisting people, their fighting had wasted all of the resources Lyssia had to offer; the continent was now a husk of its former self. Land and fields were razed, the bodies of men, women… even children were left to rot in the mud and sun.
Bast is the homeland of the Felinethropes and their allies. A gigantic jungle continent to the south of Lyssia, we believed them to be brute savages. Not only is that true, but they are also accomplished navigators and strategists. From what I’ve learned, their Hierarchy is the Forum of Elders with one member from each Cat family: Lions, Panthers, and Tigers. I do know two of them, however: HIghlord Leon, the Werelion, who retook the throne when he learned that Lex was killed, and Highlord Oba, the Werepanther, the father of Opal and Onyx. The third member is still a mystery to me.
I continued to stare at Opal. “Well? What is your answer?” She just stared right back.
“There’s actually a third option, Wergar,” Opal insisted.
“Oh, this I have to hear,” I mused. “I’m listening.”
“Run,” she simply said. “Run fast. Run far. Because I promise you, when I get out of here and return to Bast, I’ll bring the whole army with me. There will be no one who won’t be safe. And when we do find you, I’ll have the pleasure of killing you. But, I won’t kill you out right. I’ll tear your nails off, pull your teeth out, and rip your sorry hide off your body.” A horrid smile made its way to Opal’s face, the mark of my ring stretching to the movement. “Then I’ll wait. Wait for you to heal and regain everything you lost, and I’ll start all over. You’ll die one-hundred deaths before I’m through with you.”
All I could do was smile. “As much fun as that sounds, Opal, you’ll never get the opportunity. I’ve faced things that are far out of your league. And, as I understand, when you tell me everything about Bast, including how to navigate there safely, everyone there will see you as a traitor. Once word reaches them, of course.” The Panther was starting to shake, as she had made me do just days ago. “And as I said before, nothing will stop me from getting to your children. Now, are you ready to talk, or must it be forced from you?”
Opal, the proud Panther from Bast, looked down in defeat. I smiled just a little bigger. Finally, I thought, justice.
“I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere,” I mused. Leaving momentarily, I came back with several pieces of paper, ink wells, and quills. Setting the supplies on the table in an orderly fashion, I was ready.
“Now,” I said, dipping the quill in fresh ink, “let us begin, shall we? There’s a long night ahead of us.”
