#forelhost

[nerevar-quote-and-star]

Meet me at midnight to see how dark we can take this crackship

Only, not as dark as I thought it could be? Oh well, @elder-dragon-reposes REALLY liked it! I mean really.

ao3 | masterlist

Her footsteps on the stair were not the first inkling he had of her presence in his tomb.

There was a shift in the air, a whisper through the stagnant corridors hissing of a presence that had not been in the halls of Forelhost since the Traitor was a young acolyte in the Order. But as alike as her presence was to that lir, there was something light that was entirely this being, this volaan that was all her own.

He would handle her. Did he not handle the Nordic invaders long ago?

"You know how you dealt with the last wave of volaan."

Froda's ghost sneers in his hollow ear, a draft that persisted in invading his chamber even after millennia. He snarls into the darkness, and silence falls again.

Tremors worble through the air, sometimes brushing the stones and at others, pressing against his ears. The volaan's encroachment into the catacombs was neither explosive nor vivid. If he weren't so attuned to the wards and runes of Forelhost, he would not have known she was there until it was too late.

Time passes. It creeps forward, frost covering the ground with the advancing winter. A chill curls down his withered spine, coiling in his chest with the harshness of a cold drake. He could taste the blizzard building in the air the closer the volaan came. He would last through her winter, just as he did others before.

"You call this outlasting the winter? It has broken you, wuth jul."

The whisper dissipates, but the growing chill does not. It permeates the stone so that frostbite threatens the dead nerves of his skin. The temperture continues to drop.

Hours pass.

Then, with a gust of icy wind, the doors open. The volaan arrives.

"Will you kill her, then?" Yes. "What a shame."

He prepared to rise, to release the ward sealing his sarcophagus, and burst into the room in a blaze of glory. But then Froda's words touched him. Why was it a shame?

Power coiled in the air, the crick shrrr hiss of ice crystals drifting through the air and shattering on the dusty stone. Dusty stones in a broken temple at the heart of a fallen city, dedicated to dead gods and a forgotten religion. Long ago, was Forelhost not the last remnant of the Dragon Cult's power? And now what was left, but dust and bone and shattered stone? Yes, yes, it would be a shame. It would be a great shame to meet such power, only to incinerate it.

Rahgot would not join the ashes on the altar to his god.

He feels her skirt the room, her chill pushing back against the heat of his wards. Closer and closer she came to him. What to do when she arrived?

Her hand on the lid was a shard of arctic ice. In life, he was familiar with the clever men and mages' magic lurking under their skin, leaving tell tale signs of each person's strngths--and weakness--in the arcane. But hers was not subtle; it was a raging storm.

IF he concentrates hard enough, he can recall a similar potency in the Traitor's presence, electric and biting in its intensity.

Both are a storm.

Dovahkiin . . .

His whisper is kiss of warmth through the coolness. He can feel her hesitate above him, and he thinks he moved in error. She was leaving. He should have remained silent.

But then the lid is sliding, solid and heavy, to the floor. Snowflakes flutter into his sarcophagus, and Rahgot sees the Dovahkiin for the first time.

He is struck by her resemblance to the Traitor, chestnut curls framing an almost golden face, wherein sat a pair of eyes so blue that the sky would weep with envy.

But yet, there is a softness in her face that wasn't present in the Traitor's, a light in the eye and draw of the mouth that spoke of exhaustion and perseverance. Where the Traitor was full of pride, this woman, this fahlil was patiance.

Where the Traitor came and went with the flash of a summer storm, hers was the long cold that seized Atmora and threatened to outlast the world.

"She'll outlast you."

But Froda's warning goes ignored.

Her hand is on the staff. Though he has not wielded it since beyond the reach of mortal memory, its heart of flame still burns like an inferno. Her mouth purses when her hand grips the stave, its heat daring to thaw the permafrost under her skin.

It is as she draws her hand back, steam curling around her finger tips, that he takes the staff in familiar hands and rises from the grave.

The Dovahkiin stumbles back, her ring-clad hand held to her chest as his presence looms before her. He can taste the power trailing from his staff to her hand.

It is quick. It is almost easy. Vahlok did not have such a fortunate confrontation. Rahgot is up and over her in a vengeful blaze.

She drops to the floor, not in defeat, but to escape his fire, and Rahgot descends--

--but she is not there. In a whirl of smoke, he turns to find her poised on the side of his coffin, ice gathered in her hands. Her face is hard, her eyes frozen.

YOL TOR SHUL! "FO KRAH DIIN!"

The songs of fire and ice meet and burst against each other, dousing the chamber in a blanket of steam. He hears her gasp at the heavy air.

But a lich does not need air, nor does he need to see.

As she stumbles backward into his sarcophagus, Rahgot falls on her, a smothering shadow. She screams when his spidery hands find the collar of her armor and the pillar of golden skin above it.

"FEIM—"

But his hand crushes her windpipe, silencing the Thu'um in her mouth. Her eyes are blown wide, sightless in the dark.

How simple, how exquisite it was to have a creature so full of power within his hands.

She is bound up in a hard shell of silver ice, but Rahgot would see to that later. His hand still on her throat, he traces the other over her face, cresting over sharp elven bones and soft mannish cheeks. He reaches her ear, and feels a tremor in her throat when his finger catches on the leaftip.

Long ago, they said Traitor's power was born from dovah sos in his veins. At the time, Rahgot did not, would not believe such a blasphemy to the gods. But over the long ages in rumination with nothing but Froda's ghost and the mountain winds to haunt his ears, he pondered the possibility of a true Dovahkiin.

Now he believed, and now he holds one in his hands. A goddess in a mortal's skin. The power of the gods could be, would be his!

"You are a fool, Rahgot."

His hiss is ghastly, banishing Froda's ghost to the fringes and washing over the Dovahkiin's face in a cloud of decay. She gags beneath him. In retaliation, he pinches her ear between two bony fingers, and she chokes, gasping.

But it wouldn't do to kill the goddess of his new religion before he's preached his message. He would seal her in his own coffin as he prepared his ascension to a new priesthood.

His wards hold the lid in place, sealing the Dovahkiin without suffocating her. He would return for her soon, but first—

There is a gasp, a brush of frost, and then from the confines of the coffin, a whispy voice Shouts, her Thu'um penetrating through stone and death.

Rahgot rounds on the tomb, pivoting from his place on the stairs from his funerary dias. But it is too late. The Shout has burst from the air into the bones of Nirn itself.

"OD AH VIING!"

Odahviing tugs at a distant thread in the long tapestry of Rahgot's memory with the strength of iron tongs pulling teeth.

Odahviing. His old master.

But how did—?

"You've sworn fealty to your own doom."

Froda's taunting voice dances in his ears as thunder rumbles in the distance. The sarcophagus on the dias is still, but dust and debris fall from the ceiling like rain. Rahgot draws back, his staff raised to meet whatever new being threatened his sanctum.

"You know what's coming."

There was a crack! followed by a heavy crash. Dust choked the air, bitter in the cold and lingering smoke steam. Then, early morning light filters in, thin and golden. In its midst is a horned head and sharpened claw. Claws that would destroy Forelhost.

"Rahgot, mey! My teeth to your neck!"

THe roof was gone, and morning sun flooded the chambers, catching on the dust motes like magicka in the air. The smoke and steam dispersed quickly, and Rahgot, for the first time in nearly five thousand years, saw his god face to face.

Of all the dov, Odahviing was always a fierce and active ruler. Always quick to action and swift to speak his thoughts. Rahgot always knew his recklessness was why he fell in the war with the Nords. But before, Odahviing was a stalwart supporter of Alduin Thuri. His priesthood followed the example set by the High Priests in Bromjunaar. He sent lesser dov to heed Alduin's call against the Traitor.

Yet here he was, heeding the call of a weak fahlil with the blood of the gods. Why—?

But Rahgot could not ponder it any longer. His master was in the chamber. A large, brilliantly formed dovah, Odahviing's size forced Rahgot to sweep back across the cracked floor, all too aware of the heat and strength of a dragon's body. But his god did not look at him.

Odahviing's claws were prying open the lid. It fell away and he lowered his snout. Rahgot could just see small golden hands grasp at the crimson scales.

"Odahviing, I can't breathe—"

Her voice, faint, speaks a language Rahgot doesn't know. But whatever she says to the dovah turns the horned head in his direction. Odahviing is snarling.

"Mey lir, Rahgot! Ruth hi!" Odahviing, thur—

But the jaws are on him. As his bones are broken by his god's teeth, Rahgot sees the Dovahkiin sitting up. in his coffin, her arms draped over the side as she tries to catch her breath. Her hair is a whirlwind and her eyes crystal. What a ravishing goddess she would have made!

Her eyes catch his through the slits of his mask. Her face is as green as the cold orichalcum. But then her mouth turns up, a sneer, and she resembles the Traitor so utterly that Rahgot, for the first time in countless ages, grew truly cold.

"Save his mask for me, won't you, darling?" "Geh, Judsedov."

Rahgot doesn't know what the Dovahkiin says to Odahviing, but his god calls the fahlil the Queen of the Dov. The Queen.

His last thought was that she was already a goddess, and Odahviing, a god in his own right, was her loyal priest.

Froda's laughter is the last thing Rahgot hears over the rumble of the dovah's throat and the crunch of his own bones.

When the mask falls to the floor, bereft of its priest, it is several long minutes before Leara can muster the strength to retrieve it. Even then, Odahviing offers his head to help support her, and he guides her across the floor.

Picking it up, Leara fingers the cold orichalcum, tired.

"What happened?" "Well . . ."

She trailed off, warm and comfortable against Odahviing but embarrassed to continue. At Odahviing's gentle huff, she relents.

"He caught me off guard. I tried to stand on the coffin for leverage, and then the bloody lich tripped me up." "Lech." "What was that?" "Nothing, Kunziiyol."

Sighing, Leara turns her face into the warmth of Odahviing's snout.

"Let's go home."

Guiding the Dragonborn to the safe hollow at the base of his neck, Odahviing takes flight, leaving the ruins of Forelhost and the Dragon Cult behind.

"Drat, I forgot about the Word Wall!" "Ruth, vahdin."

fin

[helgiafterdark]

[watermelonsaltandhoney]

I’m playing Skyrim and this just tickled me very much. 😌❤️

[arlathen]

whenever i go through a skyrim phase i make a habit of not fast traveling much and meandering into any dungeon i pass and i know we goof about bethesdas ~environmental storytelling~ but genuinely so many dungeons, while having similar design elements, also have a fun story or gimmick or whatever. it's a mix of "I know what to expect here" and "ohoho!! what will Todd throw at me!!" that is genuinely very fun.

starfield, by contrast,

[alhavaradawnstar]

I keep drawing vyrthur in just the robe but that's his thing and its actually really improper in polite falmer society. doubly so in the area where the chantry is because the fashion relies on layering. He was a controversial arch-curate even before he tried to fight god

[gortrash]

Why do we never talk about Forelhost. Why don’t we talk about the fact that Rahgot and his followers holed up in there were literally the dying breath of the Dragon Cult. Why do we not talk about the fact that they fucking Jonestown’d themselves, children included (it even explicitly says so in a note to ‘make room for the children’s bodies’ fucking hello?) That dungeon haunts me every fucking day.

[thekatbirdscrolls]

sunset and moonrise over lost tongue overlook/forelhost

[bluepwnsu]

Xelzaz Version 1.11.0 is now live!

Xelzaz Version 1.11.0

Bug Fixes and Typos

- Altered Xelzaz's Apple Ale's mesh to make it easier to place on a surface.

- Fixed some typos.

- Altered the scripting for Nirnroot tracking in the ‘Of Crimson’ quest.

- Altered the scripting for adding and removing the ‘Use Roovi’ power.

- Added a condition to prevent Xelzaz from Force Greeting you at the Abandoned Shack should you not have had him along for the DB questline.

- Altered the scripting that plays Xelzaz’s theme when you first meet him to prevent it from stacking.

Troubleshooting

- Added a new dialogue option to Roovi where you can ask Xelzaz to drop everything he is doing. This will forcefully kick him out of scenes he may be stuck in and make him reevaluate his packages. 

Additions

- Added a new unique model for Xelzaz’s drink Kyne’s Kiss.

- Added a new unique model for Xelzaz’s drink Fire Salts Cocktail.

- Added more specific location comments.

- Added new general idles.

- Added new combat lines.

- Added new greet lines.

- Added bleedout lines for Xelzaz.

- Added lines for when Xelzaz is healed by the player. (Spells using the ‘RestoreHealthConcActor’ or ‘RestoreHealthFFActor’ magic effect)

- You can now ask Xelzaz where he is residing should you dismiss him. (As long as it is in a Skyrim Hold or Solstheim)

- Xelzaz will now drape his scarf over his face when it snows or there is an ash storm. (This can be toggled on/off)

- Xelzaz may now use some of his own potions when he deems it appropriate. These are on a cooldown. You can adjust the length of the cooldowns in his 'traveling rules' dialogue as well as turning it off completely.

- Added a new interaction that may happen after midnight in Falkreath.

Interactions

- Added new interactions with Remiel ~100 new lines.

- Added new greet lines for Xelzaz in relation to Nebarra.

Quests

- Added a new quest for Xelzaz when you bring him to a meadery: 'The Good Stuff'.

Quest Commentary

- Added commentary for ‘Siege on the Dragon Cult’.

- Added commentary for ‘Distant Memories’.

Dungeons

- Added commentary for Forelhost.

Changes

- Reduced the disposition gained when telling Xelzaz he's sweet for joining in the songs with his family from +5 to +2. (Translators may need to update this script.)

- Added a distance check to Xelzaz's post Meridia quest dialogue so he won't say his line while you are falling from the sky.

Misc.

- Added a description file allowing Xelzaz’s misc items to have a description when used with Description Framework. (Not included in Bethesda.Net version)

- Nexus files are now BSAs rather than loose files.

- Resized Roovi’s in-world model. (Increased her size by 3x)

- Downscaled many textures, reducing Xelzaz’s size by about 250mb

- An optional HD Texture pack is now available for high-res textures of Xelzaz’s models.

- Altered the way ‘Xelzaz is waiting’ quest marker is triggered. The objective is now triggered when Xelzaz begins one of his waiting packages, rather than via his wait dialogue.

- Altered the triggerbox script at the Hammerfell Gate to prevent Xelzaz from triggering the 'Speak with Xelzaz' objective should he leave prior to you taking him there the first time.

Acknowledgements

Thank you to wSkeever for their shovel furniture marker used in their mod 'Shovels Bury Bodies'.

[miladyholy]

Skyrim adventure log 42 of shadow the argonian

Going into forelhost crypt to find and retrieve a dragon priest mask for someone who says he is a captain from the imperial legion.

So I knew that I would be fighting dragur and a dragon priest turns out I'm also fighting the ghosts of the late dragon cultist too.

I had to fight a dragon priest with no name before I got the key to the well so that I could go deeper into the crypt.

After fighting a lot of dragur I finally found the dragon priest who's mask I am here to collect, I had to fight the dragon priest to get the mask.

I returned to the captain who was trying to pretend to be a stormclock to get a stormcloak soldier to get the mask, so who is that captain guy?

I never did find out as I had to fight the stormcloak soldier and the pretender captain, at least I still have the dragon mask, now where to go next and look for more loot?

[daandov]

continued from here - @recitedemise

off in the corner of vilemyr inn , the tiefling is curled in the warm womb of that little , aubergine , empty bottle that's tipped over on the table in front of her. FINALLY. everything is quiet again. searing flame that wrapped it's dragon's maw around the shelving of her ribs has simmered down to nothing more than soft coals. his voice echoes from far away , until her eyes open and with a lazy grin , she's peering up at her wizard as if , yes , he could move entire worlds for her.

right. he's here. successfully stole him away , she did. enticed him with the promise of adventure and more. just as she's always wanted. ( hadn't expected this whole dovahkiin business to really throw her off course but she's ever one to roll with the punches. as is he. oh what a pair. ) " oh. . . have i hit a nerve ?? " her voice lilts in jest , the initial wave of euphoria that rabbits her heart finally passing and making way for her preferred state of numbness. " LAH PAAR. . . " the dovahzul words curl around her tongue and fill her mouth , new and delicious.

gale shows off his winnings and she shifts so that she isn't so slumped down against the wall their table was tucked against. it brings their faces closer as if they were but two conspiring ne'er do wells. claw absentmindedly twisting the string of his weathered cloak as the world gently swims ─── she doesn't recognize the disgruntled faces that eye them across the comfortable pyre that warms the inn. " mm and what'd you do this time for it ?? illusion on some dice , maybe cards ?? or did you use your natural charm and wit ?? enough for the night ?? " one more and they could make it to forelhost ─── though had it been just her on her own [ ... ] well of course there would've been no time to stop , would there ??

[nientedenada]

For the Send me a Character meme what about the mer, the disaster, the legend - captain Valmir?

First impression: This guy isn't for real, is he? He just expects me to go into this ruin and hand him stuff?

Impression now: What a legend! His convoluted plan to get the Mask relies on so many moving parts, and then you look at his orders and they just say

You will proceed to the ruins of Forelhost to retrieve the Mask from the Dragon Cult there. If you are discovered, impersonate an officer. It is unlikely that anyone from Skyrim will be clever enough to see through the disguise. Once you have obtained the Mask, bring it to Labyrinthian.

clearly the impersonating an officer suggestion is just a back-up plan if he gets caught, and yet, he decides this will be his whole plan now, and he'll just keep doing it till it works. And by Auri-El, it could have worked! He sends tons of people in there!

Favorite moment: When he runs into the problem of trying to convince an Imperial and Stormcloak at the same time. Oh! Um, he he... Hold on... I... I can explain..."

Idea for a story - I put him in my fic and let him succeed. Someone bought his story and fetched him the mask. Then he went to Labyrinthian and ran into Elenwen there. Yes! He'd succeeded. He proceeds to blow the secret of the mask in front of a Legionnaire who understands Altmeris, and Elenwen retaliates by claiming Valmir is a renegade Thalmor deserter and having him stripped naked in Labyrinthian to "prove" to the Legionnaires he didn't have any mask, Valmir was just delusional. They noticed her taking and hiding the mask and got it back afterwards. Because I love making this guy's life miserable, but don't want to kill him off. Last seen in fic trekking alone back to Labyrinthian to try to find the mask again.

“Shall we go back to search for it, Mistress Elenwen?” asked Valmir. Elenwen sighed. “You don’t have the skills to do that. It’ll take some serious divination magic, with all the magical background energy up there. I would need a team of mages.” She paused. “Yes, go look for it. Alone.”

Unpopular opinion - I didn't think this would be an unpopular opinion, but it was.. So, Captain Valmir has become a weird data point in the ongoing "Are the Stormcloaks racist? If so, how racist?" debate. The argument goes that since he managed to lure in a lot of Stormcloaks to die in Forelhost, that means the dead Stormcloaks had very strong non-racist views about what a Stormcloak officer could look like! While it is kind of funny to envision all these poor Altmer-positive Stormcloaks defeated by their non-racist natures, I said I thought it most likely that Valmir must have some illusion magic going, to be able to attract and convince all these people. But yeah, it was unpopular. No one agreed with me. Especially since mechanically, he doesn't know any Illusion spells. I still would write him as using Illusion, perhaps not to change his appearance, but to assuage people's suspicions enough to listen to him.

Favorite relationship - We don't see it in canon, but I imagine Elenwen is incredibly exasperated with him.

Favorite headcanon - He actually really is into Dragon cult history and is a bit of a nerd. But he's interested from a safe distance. " I'm too important to the war effort to risk life and limb in there."

[athousandotherfaces]

kynesgrove, morthal, and markarth for the skyrim asks!

Thank you for the ask! Heads up, I've thought about some of these things for the better part of a decade so there's rambling. Enjoy the scroll!

Kynesgrove: What's your favorite non-major city/town/settlement?

Rorikstead! I think that it has such an intriguing position and a narrative that isn't explicitly explored; it's just hinted at through ambient elements and some PC/ NPC dialogue. I really love that it feels cozy, but slightly unsettling if you stop and think about it.

There's the lack of almost any grown women among the residents, aside from one elvish woman in town. It's positioned close to two known Forsworn camps/strongholds (Serpent's Bluff Redoubt and Bleakwind Bluff respectively) Which, hey, yes they could've popped up after the town was established. (which is another strange point of interest: Rorik lives in town and says he founded it: but it's also mentioned as having been founded literal ages ago in written records) The residents mention they haven't had a bad harvest in years. Years, despite war, hardly any work force to harvest things and being easily open to raids from bandits, Forsworn, what have you. Jouane, the healer, has several books on daedric worship in his home, and has an ambient dialogue with one of the young girls not to tell anyone about their 'little secret' when she asks if he can teach her magic. These facts taken together make me think there's a deal between the townsfolk of Rorikstead and the Forsworn that entails ladies of a certain age be sacrificed to ensure these unfailing harvests. Given it's location Rorikstead is isolated from a lot of the protections of Whiterun Hold and it's mentioned by some of the NPCs- they're essentially on their own. It's also pretty close to a dragon burial mound and a vampire den. Which I think is also meant to further highlight that the village is basically left to fed for itself (without much scrutiny) because it is so far from Whiterun. Dialogue from guards even mentions that Rorikstead is more susceptible to a dragon attack because of its location, low martial population and lack of defensible space. All this, plus you can find Erik the Slayer, probably my favorite follower here: Visit Rorikstead!

Morthal-Do you enjoy exploring dungeons and ruins? Why or why not?

I do! I've done so many different dragonborn builds that each time I do dungeon diving it feels fun. Now that's not to say I don't find it repetitive after a bit. I've played plenty of hours of Skyrim and Dragon age 2 (a game not gracefully noted for diverse dungeon maps); I really think, and this isn't to let things off the hook, but as a rpg fan you gotta make your own fun after a bit. I will say some ruins are more engaging than others and some feel like they are meant to break you of the impulse to get in and out quickly, while others are more of a see-if-you can-outlast atmosphere (I'm looking at Forelhost, Labyrinthian, and several Dwemer ruins). I'm a huge fan of the set dressing and narrative elements the dungeons and ruins have. I also really enjoy using followers. I have my go to followers but I do try to swap in new faces too, both vanilla and mod added followers.

Markarth-If you could rewrite one questline in Skyrim, which would it be?

Ooh, that's a tough one. Really tough.

I think if I had to pick one I would say it would be more of an additional pathway instead of a complete rewrite. But I thought for the longest time that if a few choices were made throughout the Dark Brotherhood and Thieves Guild questlines that there should be a hybridized questline added for a dragonborn who becomes Listener for the Brotherhood and Guildmaster for the Thieves Guild that deals with Maven Black-Briar & her hold on the DB & Thieves Guild after you get into the top spots.

If I remember correctly you can in both questlines tell or hint to Maven Black-Briar/her loyalists that your cooperation as her pawn as you go up the ranks is wearing thin/will cease once you're in sufficiently with the groups and they're restored to their proper glory. I would really love for there to have been an attempt by Maven (especially if she's made jarl through the civil war questline) to try to have you framed for a major political crime or just outright attempt to have you assassinated by the Morag Tong (or just frame the Morag Tong since they're not friendly to the DB and it could easily lead to inter-assassin guild fighting allowing Maven to attempt to take them down in a bid to extend her reach and consolidate power). Maven just never struck me as someone who tolerated the idea of power being wrested away from her, or just the appearance of losing grip on power like the guilds command. So some upstart dragonborn suggesting they'll be doing just that felt like it should have a pretty strong response from her.

[helgiafterdark]

[liaratisoni]

When you get to high enough levels in Skyrim and start finding flawless gems everywhere. Like I just cleared Forelhost at level 49 and looted all the burial urns and draugr. I got 76 regular gems and 73 flawless gems... what am I even supposed to do with all these gems 😆 it's gonna take forever to sell them all, they're just gonna sit in a safebox in my thief hideout house.

[echthr0s]

actually my favourite Skyrim locations are

Labyrinthian

Castle Volkihar

that arctic ass area where the Septimus Signus guy is

High Hrothgar just for bein up there in the middle of the goddamn sky like come on that's dope. fuck stairs though

Ivarstead, idk why, I just vibe

Dragon Bridge. like. it's a bridge with a dragon on it what do you want from me

the dungeon that had the Jonestown type shit goin on. think it begins with an F but idr (edit: Forelhost, that's the bitch)

Forgotten Vale

Blackreach, fucking duh

Solstheim

[alhavaradawnstar]

imagine having to shovel the seven thousand steps. Or winterhold. Or the chantry. Or forelhost or labrynthian .I would Die