Disclaimer: I own nothing but my original characters and works; all other characters and worlds belong to their respective owners. I'm just playing with them.
Betad by Marethyu, Priapus, Old man of the mountain, Beans
The Celestial Farmer
Chapter 02: Vigilance
– Haran –
Running an inn in Winterhold came with its share of challenges. Very few people made the trek this far north, and for good reason. The only thing worth visiting up here was the mage's college, and most travellers heading for the college would pass right through the town itself without stopping.
Technically, Winterhold was a city but it was a city in name only. She'd heard folks talk about the glory days before the Great Collapse, but the Winterhold she knew was unworthy of the title of 'city'.
The Jarl constantly complained about her letting mages do business at her inn, but if she ever stopped, there wouldn't be an inn. The only people with anything resembling coin around here were the mages and the Jarl himself. She couldn't run an inn off a single customer, and she relied on the college mages coming down for a drink every so often to stay in business. They didn't do it often because the locals didn't like them, but it was enough to keep her in business, barely.
If Nelacar stopped renting his room, she'd lose the inn. If the mages started drinking in their college instead of here, she'd lose the inn. That was life in Winterhold, no matter how Korir complained about the mages being responsible for everything bad that happened.
Her only regular customer was Ranmir, and he was running up a tab he certainly couldn't pay off now that Birna had stopped letting him use the store funds to feed his drinking problem.
For all Korir's complaints, if anything ever happened to the College, Winterhold would be gone within a matter of years. He probably knew it, deep down, because why else would he let the College keep their Thalmor advisor while Winterhold supported the Stormcloaks in the war?
"I've been looking for you. Got something I'm supposed to deliver, your hands only."
The words made her jump. It was the middle of the day, and Ranmir was off arguing with his sister, so the place was utterly empty. As she turned, she spotted one of the couriers holding out a letter for her. There was something deeply disturbing about the couriers: how did they always know where to find her? She'd been on the other side of Skyrim on some business before, and they'd still managed to track her down on the road. Plus, an unarmed man running around Skyrim with a backpack full of letters and items he was delivering, but she'd never heard of an item failing to make it.
"Ah, thank you," Haran said, taking the letter from the man.
"Looks like that's it. Got to go," he said, vanishing back out of the door as she watched for a moment, shaking her head.
"Creepy fella, that one," Dagur said, her husband shaking his head. "Were you expecting anything?"
"No," Haran admitted, opening up the letter with a frown. "Huh, it's from Chillbloom Farm."
"Heard Bjorn's son returned. Damn shame what happened up there," Dagur said, understating matters considerably. Chillbloom was one of their only business partners. She didn't know how Bjorn had managed to grow anything out in the mountains, but his family had their techniques, and the goods from that farm were sold at the general store and her inn. Bjorn and Frida always gave them a good deal for the vegetables and horker meat, especially as the colder seasons rolled in. Winter was going to be rough without them.
Winterhold was reliant on two things for its food. Chillbloom and the fishing industry. Chillbloom had been raided, and the fishing had been especially bad this year. She was no fisher herself, but she'd heard that the waters never really recovered from half the mountain falling into the seas and the mess from Morrowind's Red Mountain. For good fish, you had to go further out, and that was increasingly dangerous with the war on. There were going to be a lot of hungry bellies this winter, and most of them would come here hoping she had what they needed.
She had ale and mead. It might help distract them from their hunger, but you can't live off booze alone. Gods knew, Ranmir was trying.
Not for the first time, she wondered if it would have been better if the entire city had fallen into the sea. Just enough survived for stubborn fools like her to stick around and try to make a living in this waste.
"Jorgen is trying to keep the farm running," Haran said, making Dagur blink in surprise as she read the letter. "He wants to know if we want to keep the same deal we had with his parents."
"Is he mad? A single man can't run a farm, and it's about to be winter. He'll freeze to death out there if he doesn't starve first," Dagur said, making her read the letter again carefully.
"He says he's already got the first harvest ready and has some good meat to sell," Haran said as she and her husband went quiet. Had he gone mad with grief?
"You know, I heard some of the guards saying they'd seen some weird stuff going on up at the farm. The Jarl had them patrol the path a bit, looking out for any signs of the bandits," Dagur finally said. "I figured they were talking out of their asses, like usual."
"Weird stuff?" Haran asked, pressing for more details. She doubted the guards went all the way to the farm,
"Strange white trees with red leaves, hooded figures wandering around in the mountains that didn't have faces," Dagur explained, making her blink. "Could be some daedric nonsense. Jorgen wouldn't be the first to lose it and turn to them."
"Or it could be magic. You know Chillbloom used to work with the mages," Haran pointed out, making her husband shrug. Jorgen hadn't been back to the College, as far as she knew, but she wasn't going to jump to conclusions. It had been a couple of months since the attack, and the Chillbloom family had always been good to Winterhold.
"Korir won't be happy," Dagur said simply.
"When is he ever?" Haran asked, making her husband snort in acknowledgement.
She didn't really know Jorgen. She could barely remember him when he was younger, coming into town with his parents, but when he became old enough to work, he'd headed to Dawnstar. She didn't blame him for going to the more distant city rather than coming here because there was no work here.
Whistling Mine was the only place to find work, but that was just a group of hopeless fools digging into rocks, swearing they'd make it rich any day now. They barely had any iron veins, let alone the silver and gold they swore were there.
Dawnstar simply had better prospects for a young man willing to do the backbreaking labour. More than a few Winterhold boys had headed that way, seeking work.
Putting the letter down, she considered her options. If Jorgen had really managed to get the farm working again, could she afford to turn down a source of food when a harsh winter was rapidly approaching?
No, probably not. Korir could whine all he liked. He may be Jarl, but that meant increasingly little nowadays.
– Jorgen –
As I finish storing today's Popo meat, I pause.
100cp granted. 100cp total.
What the fuck was that?
[Monster Hunter: Kelbi] - 50cp, 50cp remaining
Herbivorous, deer-like monsters. Valued for their horns, they tend to run away at the first hint of danger. They are also hunted for their meat, which is chewy but flavorful. You gain a small herd of five.
[Monster Hunter: Mosswine] - 50cp, 0cp remaining
Wild pigs covered in moss and fungus. Sometimes, you will even find mushrooms growing on them. Their meat is known as a delicacy. Though normally docile, they will charge you if angered! You gain a small group of five.
Huh?
Watching as ten new animals just pop into existence, I pause for a moment before I sigh and get out my to-do list, adding two new items to the bottom. Better get their pens sorted, hadn't I? Still, that's more materials to harvest each day.
I've planted all the Weirwood trees, scattering them around my land and the surrounding areas, and they've all grown nicely. My golem collection is growing as well, and it got me thinking. I've been sending them out into the cave systems, looking for any ore veins. I know a thing or two about mining, after all.
They've been ordered to run if they encounter anyone, and I've lost a few to wild beasts, but they're just rock and earth. Those are things I have in excess, and with enough to work the farms, I can afford to lose some.
I'm getting a growing amount of supplies, but what I don't have is coin. I've sent letters to both the Frozen Hearth Inn and Birna's Oddments in Winterhold. How the courier knew I had a letter to send is something I'm not sure of, but after everything, I decided not to question it.
Depending on how things go with them, I might reach out to Dawnstar as well. Dawnstar is a port city, so they have an easier time getting food shipped in, but Winterhold is reliant on the farm and the fishing.
I'm sure rumours have already started swirling, and I've seen figures watching the farm from a distance. I really have no way to explain my new powers, and I'm no liar. When the questions start, I imagine that I'll get far more attention than I want. I wouldn't be surprised if those college types come from their fancy college to prod me for answers and my secrets.
For now, I have work to do. The whispering of strangers is no concern of mine.
Feat Achieved: Get the attention of the Vigilants of Stendarr (100cp), 100cp total.
The information that enters my mind makes me grunt, frowning. Wonderful. I am no Daedrea worshipper, I have no quarrel with the Vigilants, but they might not agree. Looking around the bustling farm, I rub my beard with a frown.
Bah, let them come and complain at me. I've done no wrong.
[Smith] - 100cp, 0cp remaining
Source: Generic Builder
You have a particular talent for creating anything a blacksmith/armorsmith/weaponsmith might create. Any such crafted object is twice as durable as it would otherwise be, and creation times are halved.
Hm. I really do need to get a forge set up don't I?
As my Barioth comes running up to me, carrying a dead bear in his mouth, I sigh and rub his fur.
"If any people come to visit, try to stay out of sight, okay?" I ask, making him purr happily. "If anyone attacks you, try to get away. If you can't, eat them."
The happy growl he gives me in response makes me smile. He's a good boy, really. Plus, I doubt many could track him through the mountains; he's fast and very good at going unnoticed in this terrain.
"Now, let's get this one carved up, and I'll cook you the best cut of meat, okay?" I ask, making him purr happily as he helps me get the bear into the storeroom. As I work, he sits at the door, tail swishing excitedly. A wild beast like him needing his meat cooked and seasoned?
I spoil the big baby.
– Keeper Carcette –
Word travelled fast despite the remote location of her target.
Leading a small squad of Vigilants, she spotted their target in the distance. The farm should be abandoned, given the recent tragedy, but she could see figures working the fields and tending to the beasts.
And what beasts they were. Even from this distance, she could tell that they were something new to the region. The strange trees made her pause to examine one of them.
"We should burn it down," one of her men said, looking at the white tree with suspicion.
"Don't be daft," Carcette said with a scoff. "Do you feel anything Daedric about this tree?"
The man went quiet, making her roll her eyes.
"I can feel something about it, but I don't know what it is," one of her men admitted.
"Then you need to travel more. I've felt this before, in Whiterun. The Gildergreen feels much the same to those who can sense it. There's nothing foul about this tree. I'd say Kynareth blesses it, but it's not my place to say something like that," Carcette said bluntly. "If you can't tell the difference between the Aedra and Daedra, you need to start over as an acolyte."
Her men meant well, but Nords were swift to mistrust anything they didn't understand. The Vigilants were doubly so, trained to look for Daedric influence in every shadow. It was why she led the Hall despite being an outsider. She was more reasonable, and her Breton heritage gave her an insight into magic that most lacked. She could tell the difference between the mundane magic and the Daedric threat.
She stopped, finding a gravesite marked by a pair of well-made gravestones. They were fresh and incredibly simple, with the names carved into the stone along with two small symbols. The outline of a bear's head on one and a flower on another.
Paying her respects, she continued to head toward the house with a frown on her face.
They hadn't been subtle in their approach, and she could see the man waiting for them. The air felt warmer as they approached, and she noticed stone pillars with strange markings carved into them scattered around the farm. As they got closer to one, she could feel the gentle heat coming from it. It was stopping the snow from settling as their path went from being inches deep in snow to none at all.
"Hm, it's about time you got here," the man said, sitting on a small stone wall as she paused. He was an undeniably handsome Nord with a thick blonde beard and long hair. Piercing blue eyes watched them approach with a tired grimace. She was sure that she'd seen him around Dawnstar before, remembering something she'd heard about this farm.
"You were expecting us?" Carcette asked, gesturing for her men to relax. "Are you Jorgen?"
"Knew someone would eventually. Aye, that's me," Jorgen agreed, standing up. "Come on, no point in you all standing around outside. Let's get this over with. I have work to do."
"Get what over with?" one of her men asked.
"Your investigation. I know a Vigilant when I see one, and I'm no Daedra worshipper. I've got nothing to hide and a lot to do," Jorgen grunted. "The sooner you lot understand that, the sooner you're back on your way, and I can get back to work."
"What animals are those?" Carcette asked, nodding to the strange mammoth-like creatures that were pulling some kind of farm tool along a field.
"Popos. They make great beasts of burden," Jorgen answered easily.
"Where did you find them?" Carcette asked. "And those strange pigs and deer."
"I didn't find them. They found me," Jorgen answered easily. "Found them right here when they showed up."
"And you didn't think that was strange?" one of her men asked, making Jorgen snort.
"Strange? Nothing's been normal since I got back to the farm. Strange is my new normal," Jorgen laughed. "Come on in, or are you going to stand around all day?"
"What's with those things," one of them asked, hand on their mace as they watched a faceless man of stone moving through the farm. "Is that an atronach? Are you a conjurer?
"It's a golem, just a pile of rocks enchanted to do some manual labour," Jorgen replied. "Dumb as the stone they're made from, but good for tedious labour."
"So you're a mage?" Carcette asked, making him nod.
"Guess so. I ain't gone to the college or done any fancy training, but I know some things," Jorgen agreed. "My Grandfather always said we had magic in our blood. I guess he was right."
"I'm going to have my men look around if that's alright with you," Carcette said, her tone challenging, but Jorgen just nodded easily.
"Be my guest. Just don't mess with the crops or go into the animal pens," Jorgen grumbled, heading into the house as she nodded to her people, giving them instructions before she followed behind. "Go on, ask your questions."
"Where did you learn all this?" Carcette asked, taking a seat in the warm living room. "This isn't like any magic that I've ever seen."
"Couldn't tell you, and that's the honest truth. Swear it to Julianos himself," Jorgen said. "Came back to the farm with as much magic in me as a Mudcrab. I was praying at my parent's graves, then I collapsed and woke up with strange magic. I'm no expert on this, but I'm not so stubborn as not to use the tools fate gives me."
Carcette remained quiet for a moment, thinking over his words.
"This doesn't worry you?" Carcette asked, and he shrugged.
"Maybe a little, but what should I have done? Gone to the College and let them experiment on me? I can use this knowledge to keep the farm running. Without the knowledge of how to make golems, I'd never handle the place alone. Without the enchanted pillars, the farm would be frozen over," Jorgen said simply. "Things happen for a reason. Ain't my place to ask why."
"Do you think this is a blessing from the Divines?" Carcette asked.
"Hmm. Maybe. I'm no priest. I worship the Divines and pay my respect to Kyne and the old ways, but what do I know about their blessings?" Jorgen said simply, shrugging again. "I know mining, and I know farming. Beyond that? You're asking the wrong person."
"Those golems, are they dangerous?" Carcette asked, making him snort.
"One got killed by a Horker yesterday. Another was chewed on by a wolf. Even if I gave them weapons, they're weaker than a normal man and slow. They're useful because they don't eat or sleep, but any half-decent fighter could take them down," Jorgen laughed. "Like I said, they're good for tedious work but not much else. Tch, I'm being a poor host. My mother would clip my ears. You want a drink?"
Agreeing, Carcette went quiet as she watched him get them both a drink. She just had water, not trusting anything else. It was harder to poison clear water, not that she was expecting him to poison her, but there was enough weirdness going on that she wasn't taking any chances.
Jorgen claimed he'd just gained new knowledge, but that wasn't how magic worked. She was a talented mage herself, exclusively in the school of restoration, but she'd learnt it through spell books and mentors. People didn't just gain knowledge.
He showed her his workshop, claiming to have gained the knowledge of Artificing, but she didn't recognise the term. It wasn't enchantments like she knew it; that much was clear. Her own weapon was enchanted, but she'd had a mage do it, and she'd watched the process. Whatever Jorgen was doing was somewhat similar but different. He didn't use a soul gem, for one.
It looked more like smithing than the enchanting she knew, and her mind went to the Dwemer and their creations as she watched him work. He even made a golem with her watching, and again, it was like nothing she had ever seen. She had expected to find that he was summoning Daedra and binding them into bodies of stone, but that wasn't the case. The golems were animated by magicka alone.
He easily admitted to planting the strange trees, which he called Weirwoods, around his property. He also admitted to just finding the saplings on his farm, the same way he had the Popo, Kelbi and Mosswine. Whenever something appeared, he had an understanding of what it was and how to best use it, but where was this knowledge coming from?
The animals weren't daedric, that much she was certain. She was pretty sure she'd be laughed out of the Hall if she brought a mushroom pig back and tried to claim it was a Daedra.
Finally… this.
Her men went for their weapons, fear and confusion in their eyes as Jorgen demonstrated his magic. Roaring to the heavens, fire left his mouth, and the entire area grew almost painfully hot for a moment before the flames dissipated. She gestured for her men to calm down before they did something stupid.
"What manner of magic is that?!" one of her men asked, hand on his mace as Jorgen glanced at him. Jorgen had barely hidden his amusement at their confusion.
"It's called Dragon Communion. I believe it was practised in some faraway land, but my power gave me little else to work with," Jorgen admitted simply. "I have foreign memories of practising it in lands I don't recognise."
"This has to be the work of a Daedric Prince," one of her men muttered as she sighed again and gave them a warning look.
Hermaeus Mora, perhaps? He was said to have access to long-lost knowledge. Or Sheogorath, the Prince of Madness.
And yet, Jorgen had been very open with them and hidden nothing. She'd seen no signs of daedric worship, and Jorgen still seemed to have his mind. Worshipping the Daedra always came at a cost, but Jorgen seemed utterly fine beyond the annoyance at them taking time out of his work day.
She had to make the call because her men were getting increasingly nervous as Jorgen watched them. Despite being outnumbered, he didn't seem concerned.
She thought back to the feeling she felt around the trees and how it reminded her of the Gildergreen before it had been struck by lightning. It felt so similar, and the priestesses said that Kynareth herself had blessed the Gildergreen.
If the trees were a gift from Kynareth, could the animals be the same? The strange form of smithing and enchanting could be a blessing from Julianos. As for the dragon magic? Akatosh.
Could Jorgen be favoured by the Nine themselves? And if so, why? None had been so blessed since the Hero of Kvatch had restarted the Knights of the Nine, and in that case, the Hero simply had the armour and weapons of Pelinal Whitestrake. Her mind went to Saint Alessia and then to the situation the world was in.
The worship of Talos outlawed, Thalmor dragging people off into the night, the Empire on the brink of collapse, rumours of a dragon destroying Helgen. Throughout history, whenever the world needed it most, champions would arise, often from lowly stations.
The more she thought, the more convinced she was that attacking Jorgen wouldn't just be a bad idea. It would be a sin.
She took too long as one of the Mosswine made a loud noise. Her well-trained and disciplined men panicked over the snorting sound, one of them drawing their weapon as they moved forward toward Jorgen.
The world seemed to move in slow motion as he charged, but Jorgen barely moved as a white blur struck first. In an instant, her idiotic subordinate went from standing to being pinned by a massive beast, looking like a sabre cat had bred with a dragon as it snarled down at the cowering idiot.
Claws like swords dug into the ground, and its spiked tail thrashed angrily as it glared at them. However, once again, Jorgen just sighed.
"Oi, get off him," Jorgen ordered, clipping the beast over the head lightly as it let out a snarl at them. It almost seemed to grumble as it backed away, sitting on its hindlegs next to Jorgen, eyes locked onto them.
"W-where did that come from?" one of her men asked, hands shaking as he held his blade.
"You lot aren't the most observant, are you? Barioth stalked you from when you entered the mountain pass all the way to the farm, as he does all potential threats," Jorgen snorted, stroking the beast gently as it purred and pushed its giant head against his hand. "He isn't allowed to attack people if they don't attack him or me, but he always follows people he doesn't recognise."
Her blood ran cold at that. Jorgen had known they were coming because his… pet had warned him. It was unlike any beast she'd ever seen, but she knew danger when she saw it.
"Put your weapons away. I told you lot to keep them sheathed," Carcette ordered with a sigh, making a note to have the idiot currently cowering on the ground reassigned to latrine duty when they got back. He scrambled to his feet, running to the group as Jorgen and the Barioth watched. Jorgen didn't seem bothered, but the Barioth had a look in its eyes that she recognised.
It was looking at them like they were prey. They were the mice being toyed with by a big cat.
"Another one that just appeared on your farm?" Carcette asked. Her tone was far calmer than she felt as Jorgen just nodded easily.
"Yup," Jorgen agreed, utterly casual as he stroked the Barioth's fur. After a moment, he whistled and nodded his head to the Barioth, and it shot off like an arrow. It quickly reached the wall around the farm, leaping over it and rushing up into the mountains. She tried to track it, but despite its size, she quickly lost sight of the apex predator.
"Despite the strangeness around here, I haven't seen a single sign that leads me to believe Daedra are involved," Carcette finally decided, her men looking at her in surprise. Jorgen simply hummed in agreement.
"I don't deal with Daedra," Jorgen agreed. "You done here?"
"Hm. For now," Carcette agreed. "I'll be coming back. Whatever is going on here, I want to keep an eye on it."
"On me?" Jorgen corrected, making her nod in agreement.
"On you as well," Carcette agreed.
Whatever was happening, she was sure that Jorgen was going to be important. Still, she needed more information. There was a priestess of Kynareth in Whiterun; maybe she could get her to come up and examine these trees. It was a long trip, but she was sure that she was onto something with her suspicions.
"Hmm," Jorgen simply grunted in agreement. "Can I get back to work now? Sun's going down soon."
She could feel the disbelief spreading through her men, but she just chuckled. Jorgen was a strange one, but she was sure that people had said the same about the other gifted people throughout the ages.
Saying her goodbyes and thanking him for his cooperation, she led her men back toward Dawnstar, paying attention to their surroundings. She briefly spotted the Barioth that was stalking them through the tundra, but she was sure that it was letting them spot it.
As they finally reached the mountain pass again, leaving the tundra nestled between the mountains, they all froze as they heard a roar. Looking back, the Barioth was standing on the path, glaring at them, before it dashed off again. A warning. They'd threatened its master.
She made a note not to bring the idiot who'd tried to attack Jorgen next time. She wasn't sure he'd survive the trip.
Whatever was going on at Chillbloom Farm, it was beyond her expertise to handle it alone.
– Jorgen –
Damn it all, that was an entire day wasted.
Feat Achieved: Pass the Vigilants' investigation without anyone dying (100cp), 100cp total.
[Dwarven Brew] - 100cp, 0cp remaining
Dwarves are known for many things, but one of their most famous is their brews. This replenishing stock of alcohol is of the highest quality, able to make even Gods of Debauchery nod their heads in approval.
Hm.
Maybe those Vigilants aren't so bad after all.
— Bonus Scene — Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon (Ciri)
Blind jumping was always a risk, but she didn't have much choice. The Hunt had found her once again, even though she'd tried not to use any of her powers in her last world, and her only choice to escape was another blind jump.
Clutching her bleeding side, she landed face down in the snow. Wherever she was, this new world was a cold one. Struggling to her feet, she froze as she came face to face with something large.
The large cat-like monster tilted its head as she went for her blade, but she realised that it wasn't trying to attack. It seemed mildly curious at best, licking its paw as she looked around… a farm?
The sound of a portal opening made her freeze, spinning to face the Wild Hunt as one of their navigators stepped through it, followed by half a dozen warriors. They'd had more, but they paid dearly for the deep cut they'd placed on her side.
"You cannot run forever, Cirilla. Eredin grows impatient with your futile rebellion," the navigator said smugly, watching her carefully. She was injured, and they'd managed to track her down. She couldn't jump again, exhausted. "Seize her."
The warriors rushed forward, but injured or not, she was no easy prey. The first who approached lost an arm; the second was pierced through the chest, but the third managed to knock her blade away. She'd been running for a long time. They'd followed her through five different worlds before they got here. She was tired and injured, and they knew it as an armoured fist struck the side of her face.
"You were a fool to think you could-" the navigator started, lifting his staff before his words were interrupted by a scream, her eyes widening as the cat monster casually clawed through his armour, blood spraying across the ice.
She'd almost forgotten about the beast. It bit down on the helmeted head of the navigator and simply ripped his head off, gnawing on the metal. She wasn't idle, grabbing the blade of a fallen warrior and stabbing the one who backhanded her as the creature pounced on another. The portal closed, no longer powered by the navigator's magic, and the warriors were left stranded as the monster made short work of them, purring happily as it gnawed on a severed arm.
It turned to her, head tilting as she threw down her weapon. It wasn't stupid, and as it saw her disarm herself, it let out a low purr and relaxed, sitting on its hindlegs.
As the adrenaline faded, she felt the exhaustion of jumping so many times hit her all at once, falling to the ground. Laying on her back in the snow, she watched the creature wander up to her and sniff her several times, and she really hoped this wasn't how she met her end as it considered whether to eat her.
Instead, it picked up one of the Wild Hunt warriors and ran toward a building she could see in the distance. Her body gave out, bleeding into the snow as she finally passed out.
– Jorgen –
Opening the door, I look down at my Dwarven Brew with a frown. Either this stuff is stronger than I thought, or my Barioth just dropped half a dozen weirdly armoured elves at my doorstep.
Barioth purrs, pleased with himself, but he also makes a noise to get my attention, head looking toward the edge of the farm. I can tell which way he wants me to go because of the blood trail from where he dragged the bodies, and with a sigh, I grab my coat and head out.