Deep in Inigo's subconscious, something stirred; something the khajiit hoped would never trouble him again,
"Inigo remember me? The doomstrider?" Inigo tried to opened his 'eyes' but found them too heavy to be opened properly.
After a few attempts, Inigo did open his eyes; he stood wide-eyed as he beheld the same mansion that he spent time in as a metal
shell.
Inigo's vision sharpened and he could better see the beautiful details which he could not have seen in his metal alloy body no matter
how hard he wanted to see them. His eyes fell on the sofa where a black furred, red eyed khajiit dressed in black metal armor sat. Inigo
wasn't sure if the elongated skull on the front and the two smaller skull on the pauldrons were deliberate or not.
The shadow walked over to Inigo and smiled. Inigo could see his horribly long fangs as he smiled.
"Inigo, do you recognize this place? This is where you came after Anise soul trapped you but instead of going to Coldharbour you
came here by the grace of... Meridia." The doomstrider made a horrible dryheaving sound as if trying to expel an invisible hairball.
"This was all before you became one of his children, you understand."
He turned to face Inigo again,
"Being one of his children, do you not feel his presence as he pulls your mind to Coldharbour?" The black khajiit asked as he paced
back and forth in front of the bewildered blue khajiit, "Yet still you delay the inevitable, care to tell me why that is?"
The blue khajiit shrugged. His mind was blank as an endless sea devoid of fish. The doomstrider took his ignorance of the situation
into consideration as he turned his back on Inigo and began to ascended the stairs split in have by the door at the bottom.
"Don't worry, my friend, you will soon feel lord Bal's pull. It will become stronger over time and soon, I doubt even you will be able
to resist it. All drains lead to the ocean my friend, the question is will you jump in or will you fight on your way down?" Inigo stared
in shock as the doomstrider disappeared in a plume of black smoke; so to did the mansion.
Inigo woke up, stretched and looked around to make sure he was in the shack and not the mansion with the shadow being. His ears
perked up as he heard a hiss. that might have been a yawn, from the loft above him and know at once that Hasir must be awake.
Inigo got up and saw the Argonian descend the stairs and smiled at him,
"Good morning my friend, sleep well?" The Argonian nodded and asked the khajiit how his night was. Inigo frowned as he told Hasir
about the dream he had had the night before.
Hasir looked calmly at his blue khajiit friend as though Inigo's dream had meant nothing at all to him,
"Inigo, you do know that dreams don't reflect reality, right?" He asked as he sat down opposite Inigo at the table. The alyied gave
them a cheery wave as he asked if they had slept well, Hasir nodded and smiled jovially; Inigo just sat there, head in his hands.
Qynar sat down between the Argonian and the khajiit and asked if Hasir knew what was the matter with Inigo. Hasir turned and
asked the heartland elf that he should ask the forlorn khajiit himself.
Qynar took this advice and did just that, inquiring as to the khajiit's strange behavior. Inigo eyed the elf as though he were a
paticularly rancid cut of met and told him all about the dream,
"Qynar, I dreamt of a shadow being that resided in a mansion I was once a prisoner in." Hasir craned his head so he could listen as
well, "This 'shadow' was wearing some sort of armor that I have never seen before."
Qynar asked him what kind of armor it was; if there was any detail about the armor that stood out. Inigo told the elf that the armor
was made of black metal and looked more detailed than ebony armor with an elongated skull on the front and smaller, elongated
skulls on the pauldrons. He also told him that the shadow being wore what looked like black scaled gauntlets and matching greaves
and boots. Qynar looked thoughtful for a moment, got up and went over to the bookshelf where Inigo had found the sweetroll and
extracted a black book with a silver daedra letter 'O' on it and brought it over to the table.
He put the book in the middle so that both Inigo and Hasir could see, cracked it open and flipped to the second page. On one page
stood a menacing soldier clad in the same armor Inigo saw the shadow being wearing as well as a helmet with a skull forming almost
the entire front of the helmet. On the other was a passage that looked like was ripped straight out of Oblivion. Inigo and Hasir
shrugged when asked if they knew what the passage said and also said they were not well-versed in the daedric alphabet.
Qynar frowned at the both and began to translate the passage,
"Long ago, in an age that seemed long forgotten by mortals, the land of Tamriel was once ruled over by the lord of domination,
Molag Bal and the entire continent was one giant plain bereft of life and was swarming with all kinds of unsavory creatures. Among
these was a force known at that time as the knights of Molag Bal. The knights served as Bal's personal bodyguard and police force, if
he needed them to fill that role; the knights would often banishh or destory things they thought of as not adhering to His rules. Any
thing that had a mind seperate from Bal's hivemind would be subject to being hunted down like dogs and destroyed."
Hasir and Inigo looked at each other with grimaces of disgust on their faces. Qynar stared at them wordlessly asking if he could
continue; they allowed him to continue with his tale,
"Years passed and a new force rose up in the city of Whiterun called the companions; it was their job to root out these evil law
enforcers and put an end to them by any means nessecary. Many groups, they would later find out, had joined Molag Bal's knights
including the vampires, the silver hand, for Molag Bal said he would stamp out lycanthropy wherever it hid as well as the forsworn,
because they felt Hircine had wronged them and they wanted revenge and a pack of rogue werewolves. The knights follow the
undead werewolf Faolchu. Molag Bal's most loyal and most trusted follower, in an attempt to purify the vampiric bloodline and put an
end to the blood-traiterous union."
Qynar smiled at Hasir and Inigo and had to fight a fit of laughter as they stared stupidly at him, mouths agape,
"So, Molag Bal wants to purify the bloodline, "He said, adverting his eyes to stare at his scaly hands, "wiping out all werewolves, so
only Molag Bal's children can hunt unabated by night, killing indiscriminately without competition." He drumming his hands on his
chin like it was a scaly drum as he thought on something, "But, what I don't get," He said, turning to the elf who looked up from the
closed book on the table, "is why Molag Bal wants to decimate Tamriel and make another Coldharbour."
Hasir turned toward the elf and shook his head as if he was ridding himself of some flies,
"Anyway, do you know more books I can find about the odd portal we-that is to say Inigo, Rakel and I-found in the cave?" He
asked.
Qynar shook his head sadly,
"No, sorry, I don't," He said, hi head fell toward his knees as if it were made of lead, "I wish I could be of more assistance on the
matter."
Inigo's eyes sudddenly glowed bright red and turned on the elf, no longer seeing him as a friend but as a fresh source of blood. Hasir
saw this and leapt over the table at Inigo, sending plates and goblets to the floor where they smashed into pieces, and tried to
restrain the blood-crazed khajiit. Hasir's grip was failing; the Argonian gritted his teeth as he tensed every muscle in his body,
"Inigo...think what you are doing." He said through gritted teeth, "This is not like you."
He dug the heels of his irons boots into the ground in an attempt to halt his forword momentum, but it was useless, Hasir knew
because Inigo was to strong. If only he could transform then he would be more than a match for the khajiit. Hasir thought on this
alternative but the more he thought about it the more Kodlak's warning about transforming in front of those who were not part of
the Companions or the pack of whelps rang in his ears.
I have to do something Hasir thought, I can't just allow my friend to be taken over by this parasite. He released Inigo went over to
the cooking pot situated in the center of the fire and looked around frantically for inspiration on what to cook to save Qynar of
certain doom. He found, on the same bookshelf that the lone sweetroll was on, a small jar of hony, a sack of flouur, two stalks of
wheat and a small jug of milk. Hastily he looked over his shoulder and saw Inigo lunge at the terrified elf, who was curled up in the
corner of the room and hurriedly threw all the ingredients into the cooking pot,
combined them so the forms a dough-like substance and when the dough
was ready, he removed the pot from the fire and added the milk to the warm dough, which he had fashioned into a small volcano
with a hole in the center and poured the milk into the hole, waited for it to harden. He replaced the pot and removed the sweetroll.
While holding tightly on the delicious treat, he managed to position himself between the hungry khajiit and his prey.
Hasir looked at Inigo, mouth gaped a bit and waved the sweetroll in front of Inigo's face hoping the smell would make him munch on
the sweetroll instead of the terrified elf,
"Inigo, if you spare this elf's life I will give you this mouth-watering sweetroll." Inigo ignored him and inched closer to the elf with
murderous intent. Hasir knew he only had a small window of oppurtunity/ His tail slammed down as an idea came to him like a dog
carrying a stick, "Do you want the sweetroll khajiit, do ya? Go and get it." He flung the sweetroll as hard as he could at the wall near
the small, round table hoping Inigo would take the delicious bait; to Hasir dissapointment he did not as the sweetroll soared through
the air andd splatttered agaist the wall; bits of dough ad icing flying to the four winds.
Hasir smacked his head with his hand and groaned audibly as he heard the horribly squelching nose the sweetroll made as it
exploded,
"Hssss.... looks like I'll have to make another one, and this time I'll have to get it into Inigo's mouth somehow." He looked at the
bookshelf; relieved to see there was plenty more ingredients to make another sweetroll. As before he walked over to the fire and
repeated the process of making the sweet confection. He conjured his flame whip, wrapped it around the sweetroll he had set on the
table and flung it as hard as he dared intto the air. The sweetroll arched through the air like the sun traveling across the sun. Hasir's
flame whip dissolved. He sat into the chair with his fingers crossed; he hoped it would work.
Inigo turned just in time to see the sweetroll soaring through the air toward him. Hasir sighed with relief as the khajiit started to eat
the sweetroll instead of his intended target. The Argonian's tail moved like a snake behind him as he watch Inigo eat the treat and
hoped that would suffice to return Inigo to his true self. Hasir cheered with delighted as he saw the khajiit's eyes lose that look of
murderous hunger. The khajiit coughed and spluttered,
"My friend, what happened?" He asked as he rubbed his head, "Ow, my head, why is it so sore? Did I perhaps eat a bad sweetroll
or something?"
Hasir ran over to the blue khajiit and laughed as he pulled Inigo into a bear hug,
"Yes, you did eat a sweetroll," He said, chuckling; his face lost that cheerful disposition almost immediately, "You don't remember
anything?"
Inigo shook his head for several minutes before speaking,
"No, I.... did not get drunk again... did I?" He asked, unsure if he wanted the answer
The Argonian shook his head to Inigo's great relief. Over the next few hours, Hasir told Inigo what had happened and, in turn Inigo
told him what he felt just before he blacked out. The elf gto to his feet and went over to the table and took his seat at the head of
the table. He listened intently while Hasir and Inigo talked about what he felt before the 'shadow being' took over,
"I was just listening to you the elf telll you about the various other portals leading to Jone and jode know where when I felt a horrific
tug at my brain almost as if my brain was in a tug of war between two invisible forces, and then the dark force won and I felt my
vampiric hunger take over and I lunged at the nearets source of blood I could find."
The Argonian looked worriedly at the terrified Khajiit who didn't have as much control over his condition as Hasir did, even though he
was still struggling with his. Hasir slammed his fist down and almost knocked over the three tankards of mead that the elf had just
set down in front of them,
"Hircine damnit, now is not the time to compare your who has better control of their vampire or beast form, I need to know what the
force was that made you blank out for those crucial minutes, Qynar's life could be at stake." He thundered, banging his fist into the
table so hard, Inigo could hear the creaking of the wooden table as it attempted to stay upright.
Inigo stared at him like a stern parent telling an impertinent child off,
"My friend, you'd do well to control your temper, lest you get lost in the fire." Hasir stared at Inigo disbelieving. He did not think that
this absent-minded khajiit could grasp the act of being philosophical. Hasir knew Inigo was right and he also knew that if he lost his
temper again, he might transform into wolf form and kill someone else, maybe Inigo, Qynar, Mere-glim or even his mate, Rakel.
Hasir screwed his eyes up as he interlaced his fingers and recited a calming mantra his aunt taught him when she realized he was
about to lose his temper as a hatchling. He repeated the same mantra over and over again until he calmed down. When he had
sufficiently calmed down, he opened his eyes. Inigo lent forward and asked if the Argonian felt better; the Argonian nodded.
Inigo asked him what the mantra he had recited was. Hasir said that the mantra was in Jel. Inigo did not understand. Hasir hissed in
annoyance and told the khajiit that Jel was the native tongue of where he was hatched; Black Marsh. Inigo nodded, though he did
not know the language Hasir spoke of. Hasir told him that it was a language that men, mer and khajiit could not understand nor
speak.
Hasir shrugged and proceeded to tell the khajiit what the mantra was in Jel. The Khajiit stared blankly into space as Hasir made
strange hissing and croaking sounds, even if any other races resided in Blackmarsh for an extended stay, they could not hope to
match the linguistics of the reptilian inhabitants of the swampy region of Tamriel. Inigo dug in his right ear with his index finger,
trying to extricate some blockage that might prevent him from hearing properly.
Inigo stood up so fast the the chair slid over his tail. He howled in pain,
"Ouch, damn tail, I almost think it has a mind of it's own... hehehe silly tail." Inigo said chastizing his tail. Hasir had to place his
hands over his mouth to stop himself roaring with laughter as he saw Inigo chase his tail like a wolf chasing a fox. Inigo strode over
to Hasir and asked him to repeat what he had said in Tamrielic.
Hasir ablidged, taking a deep breath, sat down, tenting his fingers and asked Inigo to take a seat again,
"Anger rises and falls like a tide and is best contained like a wolf in a cage. Ku-Vastei is encouraged while Shunatei is deeply
discouraged."
Inigo did not understand the Jel words that was mingled with the common language known as Tamrielic. Hasir, lost in thought,
looked at Inigo,
"Mhm? Oh sorry, I was...er," Hasir flapped his arms distractedly as he saw Inigo's confused blue face, "The meaning of Ku-vastei is
'the needed change.' Inigo cocked his head as he scratched the back of his neck distractedly, "What is 'the needed change?' can you
explain please? I am just grasping at stray fleas here."
Hasir explained that Ku-vastei is the catalyst in which change stems from. Inigo tried to comprehend but failed miserably. He asked
Hasir what Shunatei was. The Argonian did as he was asked and explained that Shunatei was the fear of forgetting, or more
accurately, the feeling of holding on too tightly to that which has already passed. Inigo's mouth hung open like it was a fish awaiting
a fisherman's hook.
Hasir waved a hand and said all that mattered was the her and now. Now, he had to find a way to either go through the portals or
find a way to shut them down one by one because he guessed either Molag Bal or Faolchu could be invaadinig Tamriel to suck the
planet dry and he surmized they will not stop even after the descendants of the blood-traitor are either captured or killed. Hasir got
up to walk around the table to think about their next move when a throbbing in the Argonian's head made him cry out,
"Gah! What in Hircine's name is happening to me?" He clutched his head like a volcano getting ready to explode. He heard a voice
inside his head. Rather than obey it, Hasir took another, more senisble approach. He wanted answers to what that voice was he
had just heard. Hasir could see the cabin gradually fade away and be replaced by the swamps of Blackmarsh; more specifically the
realm of the hist.
He quickly shut them and prayed this was a dream; when he opened them again, he saw that this was no dream and saw, as he did
before, the cyan shade of an Argoonian elder with a clawed hand resting on the root of the hist tree a mile north of him. Hasir
lowered himself into the swamp and swam the length of the murky green lake toward the Argonian spirit while his tail swayed side to
side behind him like a tadpole. The cyan shade turned to see Hasir, water dripping from his scales like lizardskin stalactites and
smiled,
"Hasir, good to see you again. You've grown the last time we spoke." Teektaka said, a wide grin obscuring her wrinkled face
Hasir sniggered at this and tried to punch her playfully in the shoulder put forgot that she was translucent,
"Teetaka, you've seen me before. You were the one who advised me against drinking all that sap remember?" He told her, studying
the old Argonian's expression. Teetaka considered him for a minute and then nodded slowly. She told Hasir that the Hist would like to
speak to him and told the Argonian to place his hand on a gnarled root at the base of the tree.
Hasir did as he was asked and as usual, the realm exploded in shades of green and the live Argonian saw about a thousand portals
like the one he had seen in the cave sprouted up like mountain flowers around the stone city. An army of khajiit, nords, bretons,
imperials and dunmer marched toward the settlement of Lilmoth outfitted in the same armor Hasir saw in the book that Qynar had
pulled of the bookshelf in the shack along with undead werewolves marching alongside them. Hasir gasped as the image began to
blur together and he toppled over backwards, cauising the image to fade. The Argonian fell flat on his back and he looked sheepishly
at Teetaka.
Hasir got to his feet; a little confused as he asked Teetaka if she understood the vision he had just seen. The ancient
Argonian had indeed seen the the same vision many times. She turned to him and told her she had seen the vison and that it meant
that very dark times lay ahead. Teetaka reminded him that Faolchu was the one who killed her and her clutch and the tree minders
that tended to the city tree. Hasir sat against a trunk of a nearby tree, fast asleep as she explained this yet again.
Teetaka strode angrily over to him; she had no idea that the you saxhleel could be so rude. She kicked his kicked him, which felt
more like a cold breeze than anything. Hasir's eyes fluttered open as he shivered slightly from the 'cold wind.' Teetaka loomed over
him like a giant hackwing,
"I tell you important facts, yet you fall asleep, why is that?" She asked him, her eyes burning like small blue fires within their sockets
He stretched and yawned,
"I've heard this story before," He told rather uninterestedly. "Can we talk about the black armored creatures now?" Teetaka nodded,
smiling as Hasir got to his feet
Teetaka shook her head telling Hasir that she only knew what he knew. Before Hasir could do so much as offer his opinion on the
matter, the realm dissolved and he found himself back in the shack. Inigo and the elf looked at him like he was some walking
volcano that might explode again at any minute. Rakel and Mere-glim also looked on in worry. Qynar turned to him and asked what
he saw.
Hasir looked at him in puzzlement,
"What?" He asked stupidly, "Xuth, I'm sorry," He said, "I was, er," He shook his head, "never mind, erm, I saw a vision of
Blackmarsh, specifcally the realm of the hist." The elf and the other onlookers gaped their mouths in stupidity, either that or they
did not know exactly what the realm of the hist was. Hasir shrugged this unease of being stared at off like cold water running of his
dried scales. "when I entered the realm of the hist, a strange scent of swamp gas mixed with the woody scent of trees met my
nostrils." He said, his foot raised onto the chair by the table.
Hasir pressed on with his tale,
"I saw trees as far as the eye could see and lushious grass split down the middle by a dirty stream the color of Argonian scales."
Hasir told the curious onlookers about how hist trees lined the stream except were set back a ffew feet from the stream. Hasir took a
breath and told them about how he swam through the stream to a hist tree, larger than the others scattered sparsely throughout the
realm; Mere-glim opened his mouth to say somethinng but Hasir cut across him, "When I got to the tree, I saw a ghostly cyan
Argonian who permitted me to lay hand on the hist tree's knotted root. What I saw was thousands of tamriel-esque creatures in the
same black armor I saw in that book." He pointed to the book on the table.
He shrugged and sat down at the table, turning from Rakel to Mere-glim to Inigo; the former were gather around the table,
"Before we go deal with the black-armored creatures, we should rescue my grandmother from whatever horrror she had gotten
hersef into." Everyone, including the elf, who had come over bearing a tray of mead, honey lavendar bread and sweetrolls, nodded.
Qynar set the wooden tray in the center of the table and unfolded a map he had in his pocket and smoothed out the creases,
"Ok so the forts I have circled are possible locations of where the Silverhand are holding Ocheeva." Hasir told him, brashly, that he
already knows where they are holding Ocheeva. The elf glared across the table at Hasir who shrugged and started to laugh
nervously.
Qynar's eyes narrowed as they bore in Hasir's; he showed no sign of backing down which made the elf smile slightly,
"Oh yeah? Where are they holding her then?" Qynar said in disbelief
Haisr stroked his chin with a clawed hand. He knew exactly where Ocheeva was being held; he walked over the table and pointed to
one of the circled forts on the paper map in the middle of the table. Qynar turned, eyes wide as he saw Hasir looking rather sure of
himself and his claw pointed to a fort near the village of Dawnstar. Hasir looked up and just now had found that a wooden tray lay
next to the map with five mugs of mead, five slices of honey lavender bread, which was quite popular in the city of Whiterun and
double the amount of sweetrolls.
Qynar advised everyone to dig in and said they must be hungry. Inigo's hand shot out like an arrow from a bow and grabbed a slice
of bread, a tankard of mead and three sweetrolls. The remaining Argonians and the lone Altmer grabbed their share as well. They
munched on their food; Hasir looked up from his meal, which, granted wasn't really a mead but more of a treat and saw another
tankard of mead,
"Hey Qynar, come and join the party, there's a tankard of mead with your name on it." He said as he slid the tankard over to the elf,
wwho walked over to the table. He did not see what the Argonian had meant by a mug of mead with his name on it; in fact, the
tankard lay bear except for the honeyed wine threatening the boil over the top. The elf slumped in a chair he had brought over to the
table and looked mournfully into the tankard filled with amber liquid.
Hasir frowned as he looked up from his own tankard,
"What's wrong Qynar? I gave you the spare tankard of mead because I thought you liked it." Hasir said as a look of concern crept
over his face
Qynar nodded quickly as he caught Hasir's eye, not wanting to disappoint the Argonian,
"Yes I do but... this tankard... you said it would have my name on it." He said, staring back down into the swirling honey
Hasir laughed so much that he nearly fell out of his chair.
"No, that is only an expression." He replied, shaking his head, causing his leafy hair to sway like a grass on a windy day, "You've got
to loosen up, try not to take things at face value." He said, returning to his mug of mead.
He glanced around the table and saw that everyone had finished their mead, unlike him and Qynar who had not drank their fill yet.
Inigo leapt onto the table, snatched Hasir's sweetroll and went back over to his seat the same way he had come. Hasir's mouth
gaped as he stared at the khajiit in shocked bemusement,
"Inigo what in Oblivion do you think your doing? I was going to eat those!"
He made to grab the sweetrolls out of the khajiit's hand but Inigo kept them well out of Hasir's reach. Hasir hissed angrily, "For
howling out loud, ask first Inigo, don't just assume you can take something just because no one claimed it. For your information,
these," He pointed to the sweetrolls in the khajiit's hand, "are MY sweetrolls." He said as he tried to grab them again. "if you want
some go make your own."
Inigo looked at the sweetrolls, his mouth watering. He did not want to give the succulent sweets back to Hasir,
"No, my friend, these are mine now and I am going to eat them whether you like it or not." Hasir had never seen this side of Inigo
before; obsessive and belligerent, there was also a crazed look in the blue khajiit's eyes that the Argonian did not really fancy either.
He turned to Ceralyne and Mere-glim to see if they had any idea what has gotten into his furry blue friend. They both shook their
heads.
Frustrated, Hasir turned to Qynar who drank more than half of his mug of mead,
"Qynar, I was wondering, have you seen behaviour like this? I mean, hoarding things, a crazed look in the eye, is this like a khajiit
only disease or someething?"
Qynar got up from the table, walked over to the khajiit, placed his hands on Inigo's shoulders and whispered something in his ear.
Inigo abliged, got up and took his three sweetrolls ans sat down on the bed in the corner of the shack, looking hungrily at the
sweetrolls. He sighed and set the sweetrolls on the bedside table. His eyes drooped and he lent back on the bed, falling asleep in
seconds.
Hasir looked over his shoulder, sighed and strode over to were Inigo was enjoying a cat nap and pulled the wolf and sabretooth cat
pelts over the blue khajiit, smiling,
"Inigo, I don't care what other people think of you, I think you are a really good friend." He said as he walked toward the table;
grinning at two elves and the other Argonian. Hasir sat down in the empty chair and asked Qynar to resume his tale. The elf abliged
and did as he was asked. Over the next few minutes, the aylied told Hasir that the reason why Inigo was acting strange; stealing
Haisr's sweetrolls and looking rather shifty. Hasir listened intently as Qynar told him that Inigo had a sweetroll addiction.
Hasir screwed his face up bemusement,
"Doesn't matter what he has," The Argonian hissed softly, "I still think he is a nice khajiit."
Hasir smirked at Qynar and shrugged. All while this was happening. Inigo drifted off into a restful sleep. A scene exploded behind the
sleepy khajiit's eyes; Inigo was surrounded by various food products on a silver platter that sat in the middle of a extra long
wooden table with the companions, Hasir and the other Argonian sitting around the table except, Inigo looked down at his body and
gasped in horror as his entire body had disappeared; his head felt doughy with icing pouring over the sides. He looked at his
friends, except they had the body, legs and arms of his friends and heads of giant frostspiders. The spiders started clicking their
pincers madly in what sounded like laughter.
Everything went black as the image of the table and his spider headed 'friends' vanished. The spider-beings' arms shot out and
grabbed the pieces of bread and the mugs of mead positioned around the lone sweetroll; except this sweetroll was large enough to
fed every spider-being at the table like a giant dough-colored balloon.
When the spider-beings were down with thier dinner and drank their mugs of mead, they started tearing pieces off of the giant
sweetroll like it was a particulary juice looking fly. The spiders munched on the bits of sweetroll as they stuffed them into their
mouths. Inigo tried to scream but realized he had no mouth.
Inigo aowke tied up in the furs as if they were a furry cocoon, he tried frantically to extricate himself from the furry prison and fell
on the floor. The resounding thud was so loud that Hasir got up, strode over to the khajiit and noticed the beads of sweat on the
khajiit's bluish forehead. Hasir asked him how come he looks like a furry caterpillar that was awaiting metamorphasis. Inigo rolled
his eyes at the Argonian,
"Well are you going to help me up?" Inigo asked still struggling with his furry bonds. Hasir smiled and raked his claws along the bit of
furs that he couldn't undo by hand. The cut furs fell away from Inigo like a blue mountain flower getting ready to blossom. Inigo got
up and breathlessly thanked his scaly friend for freeing him.
Hasir put an arm around the khajiit and led him over to the table; Mere-glim asked Inigo if he would like to sit down, the khajiit
nodded. The Argonian got up and went over to lean on the stone fireplace and he frowned as he saw Inigo looking rather the worse
for wear and wondered if there was anything he could do to help. Ceralyne walked over to the forlorn Argonian as she leant next to
him on the fireplace, her face also looking grave.
Hasir produced a cloth from his bag, dampened it with some water from his waterskin that Danica had given him during his last visit
to the temple and placed the cloth on Inigo's forehead; Inigo sighed appreciatively,
"Thank you my friend, I needed that." Inigo flashed Hasir a weak smile. Hasir lent in closer and asked Inigo how he wound up on the
floor. The khajiit told him of a horrible nightmare he had the night before about how all of his friends where gathered around a long,
onate-looking wooden table. In the middle of the table, he told the Argonian, was an ornate silver platter full of various drinks and
food, most notably one sweetroll squished between five mugs of mead. He covered his face with his hands saying it was horrible.
Hasir's eyebrows in confusion as he could not follow what Inigo was saying,
"Hold on Inigo, I thought you said this was your dream... yet you fail to say where you were." Hasir said, craning his head in the
khajiit's direction, "We you looking at the scene from above?"
Inigo shook his head violently, frustrrated that the Argonian did not grasp the severity of what had happened inside his mind,
"No, my friend, I was not watching the scene, the sweetroll in the center... that was me!" He exclaimed in terror. He went on to say
that he was somehow losing his senses; he said that before everything went black, he saw Hasir and the others with spider heads."
Hasir choked on his mead and set it back down on the table, not sure if he heard that right, he asked Inigo to repeat it,
"Yes, my friend you heard me right, spider heads, I have no idea why the spiders wanted to eat me." He chuckled a bit as he told
Hasir about how that spiders might want revenge on him for his love of killing their kind. Hasir shook his head, saying he did not
think that was the reason.
Hasir got up and walked over to the bed and laid down on it and yawned. He as well as the others had a big day tomorrow and he
wanted to be well rested for whatever came next. He dosed off; his last conscious thought was of his grandmother, trapped in a
fort, being harassed by various Silver hand members.
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