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Skyrim: Plaything	By : GE_The_Beast Category: +A through F > Elder Scrolls - Skyrim Views: 21453 -:- Recommendations : 3 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This story is made for fun, profit and entertainment. In no way do I own anything discussed. I do not own Skyrim or The Elder Scrolls fandom in any way, nor do I intend any profit from this story.

Chapter List
- 35
- 36
- 37
Elayne moved to the Western Watchtower and found it to be surrounded by a few major campsites. The Mages of Winterhold were here, along with hedge wizards and formally disgraced students all sharing the same well. Court wizards, arch conjurers and a retired battlemage all shared a camp together. Every single mage seemed to dislike Festus, which cemented any chance of the Dark Brotherhood being discovered through him gossiping. Oddly, when she got to the tower, Savos Aren was waiting on the steps.
“Elayne?” He spoke clearly as she approached the worn steps. “On the way here, I had my staff and I go and correct a mistake I made a century ago. A mistake that cost me much dignity and respect. But I have atoned for that now. And in so doing, I found an artifact that I can use to fight with you. Something strong enough to hurt a demigod.” He patted the staff upon his back. “We didn’t want you to fight alone.”
“Is that the staff of Magnus?” She had read the book by Yagrum Bagram like any of the other students did with access to the arcanaeum. And the staff upon the archmage’s back was definitely a match for it’s description!
“It is.” Savos nodded. “It had come into the hands of a Dragon priest. He also had a peculiar mask, but the only person I had ever seen use one was yourself. We thought you might like to have it.” He brought out a wrapped object, the fox fur very soft indeed. Tentatively, her hands pressed past that and to the hard metal below. It was the familiar touch of Moonstone, its angles softer than that of Hevnoraak. Instinctively she knew what this one meant as she drew it out.
“Morokei.” Glorious. “Uh, it means Glorious.”
“Good to know I would have butchered the dragon tongue. Perhaps you should make a lexicon of the dragon language after you defeat Alduin? It would allow people to read those ancient walls you adore so much. Or perhaps there are other places in those ruins where ancient nords recorded things in writing.” Savos ambled on a bit, as she brought the mask to her face. It adhered instantly, blending between the headband and the rest of her. They were both made from the same base metal, and she felt all the more respected being able to hide her features behind a mask once more. It was what the Dragonborn was known for, after all. Her magicka felt like it was restoring itself faster!
“Savos, thank you!” She just leaned forward, hugging the old Dunmer. “I lost my other mask in Solitude’s harbor.”
“I know of a few Argonians and have some rare ingredients from Morrowind that can be used to make a detect enchantment potion.” He grinned. “It won’t stay lost forever. But in the meantime? Use this. As an apology for not supporting you sooner.”
“It really does help! Everyone knows me with the mask, and my real face just makes people less confident in me.”
“Well, it is a good match for the rest of your thalmor made gear. I am impressed you are wearing so much of the Queen’s Restraints.”
“While it was not my choice, I’ve tried to make the most of it. The world’s problems aren’t going to go away just because I have a collar around my neck. Though,” She tilted her head. “Do you know of a way of getting rid of them?”
“After we spoke last I asked Enthir about them.” Savos seemed concerned. “These were invented by the Direnni clan for binding one of their own. A queen who had gone mad. While they were still in control of much of High Rock, they invented parts of them. The complete secrets were eventually taken back to the Sommerset Isles by a traitor to the Direnni cause back at the end of the first era. It was the Bretons that invented the magic that binds you, Elayne. Not that it helps very much. As you may imagine, you need the blood of the one that created the item to break the bind. But!” Savos seemed excited. “We presume that if bones from the Direnni clan were used to enforce a change, you could override whatever magic their descendants or emulators used to bind you!”
“Where would I find such in Skyrim of all places?”
“Well, that would be the difficult part. Clan Direnni and the Dominion have no love for one another, and the Direnni are mostly made up of their Breton descendants these days. I don’t know if we can leverage this, but it is something we can explore if the Thalmor that made that set of items is no longer alive to be helpful.”
“Thank you.” She hadn’t even considered looking further. “I shall have to thank Enthir. Urag, too by the look of things.”
“I did not ask Urag about this one. He has strange sensibilities in regards to young women and bondage equipment. So please don’t mention anything to him.” Savos gave her a pat on the shoulder. “We mages aren’t camped far away. When the battle is joined, I will remain back, to help you against this Harkon.”
With Savos leaving, she was left alone with the Western Watchtower. The inside still was heavily scorched from the battle that had taken place with Murmulnir, but someone had the decency to keep the beds. The door could be barred but she didn’t feel like locking it. Or perhaps she did, seeing that she was alone for the first time in days. Nibbling her lip, she slid the door bar home, locking it. Now it was just her. And whatever might happen. She aimed herself towards a patch of the floor that was clear of stone or debris, and began her shout. “Rel! Gaar!” She was using the two words she did know. The third she only knew partially. The word Kron. But in the dragon language, you couldn’t just guess.
The floor glowed as the conjuration affect began and ended smoothly. But instead of a ghostly apparition, this time it was a flesh and blood man. He wore the dragon priest mask as she remembered. He twisted around, confused as he glanced at his surroundings. “This feeling. I can feel the wind on my skin.” He seemed to stare at her. “What have you done!”
“You taught me this shout, Miraak. If that is your name.” She folded her arms, her stomach screaming in slight agony at the sight of the man. She was definitely still cursed. “It summons you from somewhere. You seemed more grateful last time.” Far less aggressive, too.
“Apocrypha.” Miraak spoke clearly. “He must have taken that information from me. I don’t remember you. Or this shout.” He folded his arms, looking to be ready to go upon a tirade. But then looked at the stone. Or rather the stone that had been melted by dragonfire. “You are a Dragonborn.” He declared with conviction.
“My name is Elayne.”
“I am Miraak.” He spoke arrogantly, with a surety that rang of confidence. “I am also a Dragonborn.”
“That’s great!” Elayne clapped her hands together. “Last time you said you were between life and death. Imprisoned in some part of Oblivion, perhaps? But since the only one who can influence this book are the two daedric princes and their domains. The pages are carved from the skin of Molag Bal, but somehow I assume you are from Apocrypha.” He had mentioned it once, and she noticed the distinct discomfort of her mentioning it. “What happened.” It was more of a demand than a question.
“You have no right to question me!” He had some very wide shoulders. He didn’t exactly tower over her, but he was taller. “I am the first of all Dragonborn! The first to rebel against Alduin! Chosen by him as his first high priest-” Elayne felt herself zoning out, as whatever he was screaming about felt less and less important. Of course, that all came to a full realization as both Dragonborn stopped their actions and looked down to where Elayne’s hand was deep inside of Miraak’s pants. “W-what are you doing!” He said, emotions no longer vitriolic. There may have been some panic in his voice.
“Taking what I need.” Elayne knelt in front of him, noticing his fingers twitch. Whether with rage or fear, she didn’t care. “I need some of you in my stomach or I am going to go into battle with weakened stamina.” Her new bracelets glimmered in her vision, as she didn’t hear him say anything. No complaints, as she fished him out from inside his robes. Lydia’s words so long ago remained on her mind, as she opened her mouth wide.
“Now, this is no way for-” He finally found his tongue, again. Well, hers found something to lick, too. And it shut him up hard. Hard as a rock, in fact. She was barely getting into it, only a half a minute in when he came, the curse finally loosening as she swallowed deeply. There was a lot of affection coming down her throat, and she had to pull him out of her mouth and let him release onto the floor behind her. Her stomach’s constant ache was gone. Oh, that felt so much better! She swallowed, tucking him back inside of his robes and gently patting it, as if to say ‘good work!’.
“When was the last time you were with a woman?” She said, unable to know what was going on behind his mask. She had moved hers up her face for part of the conversation, and slid Morokei back down after licking her lips clean. “You didn’t last very long.”
“Do not mock me!” Miraak hissed. “I haven’t seen a woman since the First Era!”
“Immortal and virginal. A rare combination.” Elayne laughed, as she felt some kind of tension loosen. “Well, since I summoned you, I suppose that can be your payment until I am no longer cursed.”
Miraak folded his arms, now. “I am no simple summon! I am the first Dragonborn!”
“Alduin has returned.” Elayne matched his glare. “I am the Dragonborn meant to defeat him! So if you won’t help me do that? I won’t ever summon you again and you can just spend eternity in Apocrypha with books and forbidden knowledge!” She blinked. “Actually, you might be more than helpful.”
“Your mercantile disposition is already giving me concern.”
Elayne ignored him. “You may have forgotten your shout, but there has to be a way to kill Alduin. Some way that gives us mortals a chance. I have an elder scroll that has something about the dragons on it, and a prophecy about it.” She shrugged. “But more information is worth a lot.”
“So you want me to return to Apocrypha and find that information for you?” Miraak laughed. “What will you give me for such a sacrifice? The Keepers defend such information jealously.”
Elayne clearly knew that right now the only thing under her dress was a breastband. And Miraak seemed to be the type to be thrown off by feminine gifts. Then again, if someone spent that many eras in Oblivion they weren’t going to be used to that. So she reached behind her head and let the dress hit the ground. Her silken breastband teased as to her minimal breast’s presence. The gems hanging from her navel and nipples were actually more of a statement. “If you show me how to defeat Alduin before his army gets here? I’ll give myself to you for as long as I can keep you here on Mundus.”
“You would offer me flesh in exchange for secrets other daedric princes would kill for?!” Miraak seemed to respond after a long stare at her body. For some reason she assumed he was staring at her ass. Everyone seemed to like it. “What kind of man do you take me for!”
“Someone that came in under a minute at the sight of my lips alone.” Elayne teased. “Goodbye, Miraak. I’ll summon you again later!” Oh she knew he would be fuming as she dismissed him like any other conjuration spell or ability. But she couldn’t hold it for much longer anyways. It was probably a good thing he came so quickly.
A heel scraped in the dust as Serana made her presence known. She had been watching the entire thing. “Are you sure you don’t worship Sanguine?” The vampire asked mockingly. “I think you could have learned a lot more from someone who potentially knows about Alduin and the Merethic era before you got distracted by his dick!”
Elayne wasn’t in the mood to argue with Serana. So she held up the familiar Bitch Tamer. “Diivon!” It wasn’t even touching Serana’s lips before it snapped onto her face. “I don’t want to argue about things with you right now. We need to rest before the battle. So lay down. More than likely there will be someone bleeding before the night is out.”
Elayne hung up her dress, and grabbed a silken nightgown for herself. “Gods, or whoever is listening. We need something. More time, even.” She murmured. “I don’t know what it will take or whatever is listening. But I need something for this. I can’t run. I can’t fight like most of these people.” She couldn’t fight Alduin with this chain between her thighs. Or a collar that prevented her from wearing armor. “Why couldn’t this have been in the Ohgma Infinium?!”
Her door rattled, as someone tried to enter. “Elayne! Let me in, I haven’t seen you in a week!” A familiar voice called. “I brought booze!”
Elayne sighed, and went to open the door. Eola was on the other side, and the area around the watchtower seemed far more crowded than it had been previously. Tents were being raised and it looked like a hagraven convention was occurring at her bonfire. “Queen Eola.” Elayne snickered. “What an honor to have you with me!”
“Well, my husband can’t move his lower body at the moment. I thought it would be a good time to visit.” Eola was looking healthy. Almost glowing.
“Oh? He’s not a fop?”
“Hah! Like that would change. But all of his whoring around with Thalmor agents has made him quite an animal in the bedroom. A pleasant surprise!” Eola gave a real smile. “And he likes scars.” The last was said quietly.
“Oh ho ho!” Elayne cackled with glee. “So you aren’t going to eat him!”
“Not yet.” Eola intoned, feigning interest. “We are convening court amongst all the Forsworn tonight. Get your gear on and join us. Important things are going to be discussed, and we need our hero to be part of it. This is the first time all of the hagravens have seen each other in hundreds of years. They need something to not fall into an angry spitting rage. That’s my Thane and best friend, right?”
“Thane?!”
“Oh yeah. You’re a Thane of Falkreath now. Congratulations, we lost the sword that is supposed to go with the office. You can get it back from the bandits that killed the last Thane later. Since i got married to Siddgeir I have the right to do that. So I have a couple of Thanes made. Gwynabyth for one. Had to make someone named Nepos a Thane for loyalty reasons. He’s an old man, was loyal to Madanach. But he holds a lot of respect in the ranks of the Forsworn.”
Thankfully, the Forsworn armor she owned was actually not going to cover the neck. Much to her chagrin, she finally had an armor she could wear. But the bones and furs didn’t fill her with confidence. In fact she was pretty sure her ass was just hanging out and they called it stylish. She kept the heels Talos made for her, of course. If she ended up fighting Alduin wearing this armor, by Oblivion she would never be able to go into public again.
But go by the bonfire she did, her blue hair standing out from everyone else. The fire was enough to keep her warm in that armor, as everyone sat in close proximity to the flames. There were dozens of Forsworn around. They were most certainly eyeing each other with distrust. But at the head of the fire, next to Eola was someone that looked positively ancient. Their clothing and style was archaic in the extreme. None of the Forsworn stood with them, but all of the Hagravens eyed this one with concern. “All of you hens are making so much noise!” She yelled at the collective tribes. “What trouble you this old one!”
“As the eldest, you must create the peace between all of us.” One of the tallest hagravens explained. “There are those here with blood feuds and grudges unbroken.”
“Fine! Fine!” The ancient hagraven growled. “I have not spoken to anyone for an age! And now you surround me in these thousands?!” She looked around. “I should have demanded a sacrifice!”
“The time for sacrifices came and went while you were listening to your birds!”
“SIlence!” The ancient retorted. “By the ancient rites, I am now the closest daughter to Nocturnal. In her name, and by my blood I declare this place and this purpose to be sacred! If any defile this intent, they shall be dragged to Evergloam by the daedra for their betrayal. All grudges and feuds are forgotten in the face of a more ancient enemy. This Haykon,”
“Harkon.” Eola quietly whispered.
“Yes! Harrr-kon.” The ancient creature corrected their pronunciation. “They must be killed, and the son of Akatosh be cursed and buried so that we may all continue to experience the life we have fought for!” She tapped a full ebony staff against the ground. “So sayeth Kraala Birdsong, daughter of Nocturnal!”
“Long may she ever live!” The rest of the hagravens screeched, as the flames turned black and grey.
“Good. No more noise! No more screeching!” The ancient Kraala yelled. “I’m going home. Bother me again at your own peril!” The Hagraven cast a spell, tearing a portal that drew her inside, and closing soon after. Once she was gone, there was a collective sigh of relief. Gwynabeth and her own grandmother stepped near. Drascua was smiling, a terrifying thing on any hagraven’s face.
“Good. Good! I thought she would curse us all and slay us through her connection to Nocturnal.” The other lead Hagraven spoke carefully. “Now that none of us can kill each other, we can finally speak!” A pointed feathery hand jutted towards Eola. “Come before us, Queen of the Longhouse Line.”
Eola stepped forward, taking Elayne with her. An older man also stood, his hawk nose prominent upon his face. This must be Nepos. He was wearing noble clothing you might find in Markarth. “I am Eola. Born Glooredhel.”
“Queen of Caddach! Queen of the Reach!” Some of the assembled yelled. “Queen of Falkreath!” Nepos shouted, louder than the rest. A dangerous man, indeed.
“We are the madmen of the Reach!” Eola shouted. She didn’t speak like this normally. Someone must have coached her. Drascua most likely, judging by how she was staring more expectantly than others. “Beholden to no crown but our own! I have bedded and wedded the province of Falkreath into our hands! Markarth will always be our ancestral home, and the home of our honored dead.” She grinned, her one eye promising the violence that they all knew would come. “I have not forgotten it. But a Queen must think beyond the actions of her forebears. I will not demand that our people throw their lives away for a city just to lose the trust of all. Markarth will be the ones to break the peace, and we shall answer. The Reachfolk have a home once more!”
Eola wasn’t a bad public speaker. Not by a long shot. But seeing her flounce about in that armor was kind of distracting. “My dear husband has allowed as many of us as we can support may inherit Helgen. We will be settling into that place, as well as Falkreath itself. Our elderly and children no longer face a freezing death in a tent. My first act as Queen is to give you a home. A place you can rest your head and actually build a future!” Eola clenched her fist. “I am not asking you to abandon the Reach. We will not abandon the Hagravens or our worship. We will not abandon the old places of worship. I am not going to leave the Reach to the Nords. But;” There was a lot of nodding heads and pleased people. “I won’t start a war with Markarth. We have bled and died too much for it. Our people settled it. But Falkreath can be our home, too. My court will be in Falkreath. It won’t be in Helgen. This marriage of people and ideology won’t be easy. And if my husband could stand here with me and confirm it, he would. Unfortunately he has the stamina of a Nord and could not stand further. In any meaningful way.” The joke was well received, as even the Hagravens laughed. But it was said they got their rocks off with the Briarhearts.
“We folk of the Reach shall not change beyond our means. But that means the attacks must stop. If you need food, or help; Nay, even if you need more than help I will come to you. Such is my promise. But I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for my dear friend. The Hero Dragonborn!” Elayne was pushed forward, and her feet took her carefully next to Eola. “We shall fight in her name tomorrow. And so on until Alduin and Harkon cannot threaten us any more! Elayne of Wayrest, please share with our army your wisdom.”
Elayne stared at what had to be twoscore hagravens. At least being this close to the fire was warming her quite nicely. “I won’t mince words. Nor will I command you to change allegiances. Eola is a good queen for us.” Us. She was a Forsworn, a Reachman. She just had been afraid of admitting it. Where most Nords would see a wall of angry abominations, she could see people. Especially her grandmother, standing to her immediate left and looking proud. It was strange to see her in such a state. “The vampires cannot afford to wait. They have raised an army, but have no blood for their forces. They must break us in order to keep their own momentum. And if they win? They will blind the eye of Magnus. The sun will turn red and dark, and no longer harm the creatures of Molag Bal. It will mean that the immortal creatures will be able to hunt both day and night. I have all of the things he needs to begin this process. As a sign of the Reach’s favor, I will be giving the Elder Scrolls to the Emperor. I have three of them. I have walked Oblivion and stole into Harkon’s very bedroom, and from there I stole his personal sword as well as his Elder Scrolls!” Elayne grinned, holding the weapon aloft.
Her bracelets immediately began to shock her, so she drove it into the dirt. They were picky about what weapons she could use. “I am the Dragonborn. Elayne of Wayrest. And now, Thane of Falkreath. I have written a few journals for information that we can use and distribute. But our people are not well suited for fighting the undead menace. I say let the Empire and the Stormcloaks bleed for the undead. They want the Forsworn to be prepared to fight Dragons. We are much better at fighting them. The Nords spurn magic. They believe arrows and siege weapons will be able to defeat Dragons. I know better. Ice magic slows the beasts. Sometimes, if you frost over a wing they will crash and become vulnerable. But with the amount of people we have here? They will just fly overhead and burn us from on high. We need to force them to the ground. Magic will be their ire. Save your magicka for flying enemies. You’ll hear me fighting, as my shouts are loud. But most importantly! The leader of the Dragons, Alduin. He cannot be harmed except by artifacts. Only something that can make an Aedra bleed will harm him. I have gathered a few of these artifacts. If you see him coming, don’t fight. Avoid him. He is mine.” The last she said with conviction, and it seemed that all of the Hagravens agreed. Better to not risk their own necks.
“We shall not let you fight alone.” The entire circle stared at Drascua. Her grandmother stepped forward. “She is my blood! Mine, and not any of yours! If she dies the world will end, and with it our kind! I refuse!” The Hagraven boiled in rage. “I will fight! I may die, but it will be for my blood! For the Forsworn! Elayne, you will not stand alone! Not when you have finally proven yourself a better woman than your mewling mother!” Never let it be said that Drascua was a nice grandmother. “If any of you still hold the old keys, bring them! Bring them out! For we can build a cage for this Alduin. Oh ho ho!” She grinned. “Let us make what has not been done for an age!”
“You are mad!” One of the ancients yelled. “Truly mad!”
“We shall not start another Planemeld!”
Drascua screeched. “He is the son of Akatosh! He will escape. But it may yet save us. What else would we use those pieces for? I don’t see any of you making treaties with Voidmothers and Xivilai!”
“We will not create a Dark Anchor for your granddaughter to win.” The Hagravens glared. “There is no way that all of the pieces are here, either. Some of us buried them very deep. And still, the keystone is with Kraala!”
“Does she even know she has it?”
“She does not.” The other ancient cackled. “It would make her all the more bitter.”
Drascua and the others screeched about that, as her grandmother’s feathers ruffled in annoyance. “Daedric artifact or not, I shall fight with her. And when she has pretty little babes she will name one of them after me!” She grinned, a terrible sight.
There was even more hissing as someone was pushed towards the fire. It was someone not wearing the armor of the Forsworn. In fact, it was someone very much received poorly. All of the Hagravens were screeching, and the Forsworn were baying loudly to throw him to the fire. But Eola was the one to hold up her fist.
“Ulfrik.” She spat. “You come to a council very much unwelcome.”
Jarl Ulfrik Stormcloak looked haggard. He was staring down everyone, alone. Two men in Forsworn gear were holding him by his arms. “I came to talk. To say things I should have said years ago. And beg for one thing before I face exile.”
“Your speech has a certain bite to it, I have heard.” Eola pointed out. “But, I won’t be the one to kill you. Siddgeir would get an even bigger head over it.”
“Just, please.” Ulfrik spoke up. “Allow me this.”
Eola gave a long look at him. She whispered to Elayne, a bit of nonsense. But Elayne understood. She just nodded. Eola was making a show for those in attendance. “Come forward. You address the Forsworn. I won’t hear a shout from you.”
Ulfrik was most certainly pushed hard by the guards. He stumbled forwards, standing in a new pocket of isolation in front of the bonfire. “Mine pale in comparison to Elayne of Wayrest. I tested it in my throne room. I moved her a few inches. She broke several of my ribs. You need not worry about my tongue in that manner. I came;” Ulfrik looked hard at Eola. “I came to apologize. Igmund only wanted me for my militia, and not my faith. Now he sits childless and barren, and is no friend of any that sit upon their seats. What we did in Markarth has caused much pain and suffering. I will not take back the words I said of Talos, but I did wish to apologize for the blood I have spilled. Before I am banished from Skyrim I wanted to do this justice.” The man looked like he wanted to be anywhere but there. Anywhere but in front of hundreds of people whom he had wronged. But he had confidence enough to keep speaking. “My life means little in the grand offering. But you said you have more than one artifact. I offer my life and my hands to wield it.”
“You would offer your life for this?” Eola asked callously. “For some pretty words and empty gestures?”
“I have nothing left. I will never see my home again. I will die childless and barren, my line all but ended. The Thalmor have killed my cousin. The line of kings will end. This is the pain I will bear as I leave my home. The only thing I have left is to use my life to its best potential. And right now that potential is at your side. Fighting the World Eater. My life has no further glory to accomplish. If all that I have been good for in this life is to destroy or kill, then let me at least fight for you.”
“Don’t you have an army to lead?” Eola glared.
“Galmar does. I’ve angered almost all of my supporters by giving up my claim. Morale is being maintained by the foe we have. But after this battle I don’t want to be leading a band of followers out of Skyrim. It would make it seem as though I am seeking power to return. I don’t want that. I can’t have that in my life again! I have made promises to Baalgruf. I have made promises before Talos himself!”
“He sounds like you.” Elayne interjected. “Serious, very serious.”
“You’ve spoken to an Aedra?!” Drascua screeched. Oh right. In this family that was kind of a problem.
“I spoke to Namira first! And Molag Bal! And Mehrunes Dagon!” There was a collective sigh of relief from the Hagravens at the pronouncement that their hero was not an Aedric worshipper.
“Please accept my oath, Elayne of Wayrest.” Ulfrik begged. “Let me wield one of your weapons and I shall disappear into the fog once the battle is over. Please.” He insisted. “Let my death not be in vain.” He wanted to go to Sovngard. Like all Nords did.
“I will consider it.” Elayne said, loudly. “Return in the morning, and I will know what to decide. You’ve made many mistakes and I won’t forget them. But we all have to see past that when so much is at stake. Go back to your tent, Ulfrik. You will hear my response in the morning.”
The gathering at the bonfire was clearly happy to see the Nord leave, but Elayne kept herself stoic. She was the one who had to decide whether or not he would fight with them. “Does that mean you don’t want to get massively drunk before battle with a bunch of Shamans and Hagravens?”
“I think I would rather drink a Voidmother’s milk.” Elayne muttered. It was something the older generation always said. “But I don’t see a way around it.”
“Hey!” Eola pulled her close. “Who knows, you might get lucky today!”
“I already did!” She nudged the more curvy woman. Why did she get all of the luck?!
“You absolute bitch!” Eola cackled. “Oh I can’t wait to see what happens in my court after this is all said and done.” Both Bretons moved towards a long leather workbench, converted to a bar. “Let’s get hammered!”
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Skyrim: Plaything