Kyne ' s Challenge : A Hunter ' s Companion / Morrowind Content . A Land of Gray Ash and Foul Pestilence SKEEVER . At the edge of the Autumnal Forest with the Velothi Mountains at our backs , our previous night ' s joviality had lessened considerably . Kishra - do joined us before departing for Mournhold , away from our hunt . Fenrig sat apart from us , bathed in a shaft of light from Secunda , keeping his dogs away from the Argonian and the Khajiit . Ingjard sat pensively , quietly murmuring prayers to Kyne . Bashnag was out collecting firewood , his nighttime foraging exhibiting all the silent cunning of a mammoth in an apothecary . Kishra - do stopped chatting to Footfalls - in - Snow , and leaned in to my ear . “ Your dungmer attracts noise as well as fleshflies , ” she noted with her barbed tongue , eliciting a rasping chuckle from the lizard . “ Perhaps Kishra - do will offer him a chiming bell to wear so he might alert all the woodland beasts ? ” I was about to explain we ' d face no dangers in this neck of the woods , when a hissing squeal interrupted her insults . Kishra - do leapt up , swiftly reaching for her staff , and brought it down with considerable force , piercing straight through the head of a huge rodent . Its tiny red eyes glared up at us for a moment , before Kyne gathered up the skeever ' s spirit to give to Peryite . I narrowly missed receiving a furry face of jagged yellow teeth and disease , as a skeever leapt out into our clearing . Three , perhaps four , encroached on the camp , probably attracted by the fire . Or the lumbering nocturnal noises of our Orc friend . He attended to a skeever by bringing his hefty armored foot down , driving both boot and beast into the soggy soil . Ingjard ' s arrows finished the rest of the vermin . Fenrig barely looked up . A brief and rowdy lull between conversation . Before we slept , Bashnag offered Kishra - do some skewered skeever he ’ d been roasting . “ This must be fortuitous , Khajiit ! ” he shouted ( although we found out subsequently this was his speaking voice ) . “ How so , idiot ? ” Kishra - do responded . A little harshly , I felt . “ Ha ! I ' d wear your coat as a winter cloak if I thought you serious , ” Bashnag continued . Ingjard looked up from her painting as I rose from my seat . Ingjard flashed me a look of concern , but I shook my head ; these were the teething troubles usually present when others are brought to the hunt . The Orc waved the hindquarters of a charred skeever skewer in Kishra - do ' s face . “ You didn ’ t think you ’ d be eating your principal diet ? How many different ways do you cat folk eat rat ? ” “ None , you feeble - minded mongrel . We refrain from playing with balls of yarn , and mark our territory with flags , not secretions . Though I ' m happy to make an exception with you , yes ? ” “ Fellow hunters ! ” I stood to my full height . “ Your bickering , though amusing , offends Kyne . ” I produced a bottle of Ashfire mead ( it seemed apt , based on our first destination ) , and handed it to the Orc . For the Khajiit , a skin of Moon Sugar double rum . “ A spot of Nord diplomacy ? ” I offered . ASSASSIN BEETLE . We spied the Ashlander camp at dusk ; it sat in a patch of flat ground - - rare to encounter in the jagged wilderness of Stonefalls - - pockmarked by small rocks and twisted , stunted trees . Fenrig approached with a lit torch . His suspicions ( and his dogs ' heckles ) were raised as he lifted the draped folds of a tent , and was almost knocked back by the smell . Dragging out a Dunmeri corpse , he had little time to examine the deep puncture wounds before Fang began to growl . Something large was shuffling about in one of the other tents . A faint clicking , rasping sound could be heard . Mauler was bounding into the tent at full tilt . Fenrig barely had time to unsheathe his sword before Mauler was set upon by the first assassin beetle . We waited for his call , but he decided to face both insects with his dogs . Mauler soon tumbled out of the tent , attached to the carapace of this huge , scuttling foe , a mass of black , red , and highlights of gray . Mandible snapping and lunging , the beetle caught the hound with a deep , gouging bite , sending it yelping from the throng . Fang clamped her teeth on the edge of the beetle ’ s armored hide and wrenched it upwards , attempting to flip the insect onto its back ( as she ' d been trained ) . The beetle lashed out with its frothing jaws , biting the air close to Fenrig ' s cloak . Clamor , as Bashnag had to be restrained from charging in to wallop a second assassin beetle as it scuttled from the same tent . It immediately disappeared . Moments later , the bug blinked back , behind Fenrig , and leapt at the Nord ' s back with mouth snapping . Fenrig ' s senses did not fail him . He wheeled round , catching the underbelly with a wrenching , skewering rip , then stepped to avoid the heavy shower of the beetle ' s acid - laced blood . He turned back just as Fang tore into the carapace , the beetle writhing and wrong side up . Another sword plunge , and the mystery of the deserted Ashlander camp was solved . We found no evidence of a hive , and so burned the remains of the Dunmeri wanderers . While Footfalls - in - Snow merrily scooped out the hollowed shell , Bashnag cooked up the beetle stew . It could only be described as “ mostly digestible , ” despite the Orc ’ s assurances of his competency in the kitchen . CORPRUS HUSK . The lights of Bal Foyen appeared , twinkling through the ash haze , choking the river winding to little more than an ooze , slowly flowing past this site of ancient Dwemer origin . Red Mountain , and its numerous smaller eruptions , have certainly stunted the vegetation and made life intolerable for the Dunmer . This is a land of permanent gray . Our slog was slow going , the ash particularly deep , and time seemed to pass with a weary malaise . Or , as our Argonian friend put it , “ This is a place where even the rocks have sorrows . ” Moist face shrouds ( or continuous nose picking in the case of Bashnag ) helped the breathing as we traipsed to firmer ground , and the cobbles of the road to Bal Foyen . Our benefactor , my Skald King , and our firm alliance as part of the Ebonheart Pact prevented us from wantonly engaging in combat with the Dunmer . This was a ruling even the Orc was willing to follow , which made our subsequent combat so unintentionally deadly . Masser and Secunda were rising and the valley was bathed in an eerie light . Now that the winds had died down , we heard very faint bustling from within the distant town , noise echoing along the rocks . Fenrig was on a high ridge , seemingly preoccupied with stargazing . But he gave a quick succession of sharp whistles , and pointed to an area of thoroughfare unseen by the rest of us . Three Dunmer … wearing fineries … seemingly lost . As we rounded the corner , we spotted Fenrig ' s quarry : an overturned carriage . Horses mangled and slid into a ditch . One Dunmeri noble , pinned under a wheel , had expired . We raced to their aid . The three thin shadows remained deaf to our initial greetings , content to amble in an irregular movement . Another was spotted in the rocks , and Ingjard raised the alarm , and her bow . “ Corprus husks ! ” she cried . I gestured for her to slow her aim , and advanced to the nearest Dark Elf to check . It turned , and the moons ' glow lit up a face of harrowing deformation . This was a wretch who had long since succumbed to the horrors of corprus disease . Like his housemen , he was a mass of overstretched skin , torn and ripped to contain clusters of purple - colored boils , some burst and others throbbing . Innards could be seen within flesh holes ; it was a wonder his guts hadn ' t spilled out yet . A leg expanded with tumors , flesh woven into once - expensive breeches . A turquoise grotesque , shambling in the moonlight . Our shrouds were pulled back up . Commotion : The sound of vomit chunks pattering off the Orc ' s shield , as two of the husks lunged at Bashnag . “ Grundvik ! ” the Orc yelled . “ Your treaty extends to undead Dunmer ? ” I answered with a well - aimed chop of my axe , which brought my adversary to his knees . Footfalls - in - Snow replied that , in fact , these weren ' t to be considered undead , and were tangibly still living victims of a purulence active in these parts . “ We make an exception this time ! ” I yelled over the rambling Argonian , as my axe blade severed the husk ’ s neck , and my shield saved me from the fountain of blood and sputum . Bashnag ' s victims were a little more advanced , one drooling trails of purple bile as it swiped lazily at the Orc with an engorged hand . The Orc pushed it back , yelling for advice . “ Was I not clear ? Send them to Mauloch ! ” I shouted . Bashnag swung and glanced his target in the jostling . The putrid bag of sagging bones looked at him with a baleful expression , and emitted a cloud of loathsome vapors . “ Cover your face , mighty oak ! ” the Argonian advice came late : The husk burst apart , drenching Bashnag in a mist of pox and internal juices . He managed to knock his other foe clean off the ground with a furious wallop from his oversized mace ; the Dunmeri husk fell apart in the air before dropping into the river . We had survived the husks , but the Orc may need to be killed in his sleep . KAGOUTI . Back into the choking gray clouds of Stonefalls we go , searching for indigenous hides to strip from the backs of lay beasts and sell for leather . This is a land seemingly cursed by fire and the constant belching of ash from the mighty Red Mountain ; we tread ankle deep in dust , along the great crater . Tracking is difficult , but Ingjard is explaining the more subtle methods of locating prey to Bashnag under these conditions most inclement . Her willingness to teach is commendable , but her pupil seems to be here with a single purpose : to cave the skulls of those that harm our party , and to cook the flesh of the edible ones . Widening his knowledge seems almost insulting . Amusingly , it was Bashnag that first trod on evidence of kagouti activity . As he angrily wiped his boots clean , Ingjard examined the spoor more closely . Then she was off , following the trail up towards a ridge of rocks and stunted mushroom growths . I explained the differences between a kagouti and an alit to Footfalls - in - Snow ; the two beasts share a similar collection of bones and toughened flesh , but the kagouti is larger , its back ridges more plated , with tusks missing from its smaller cousin . The alit may lack the stature of the kagouti , but the scars across my arms ( from my youth , when I ventured into the Velothi Mountains to hunt these easily slain critters ) reveal a more vicious temperament and more cunning attack instinct . Ingjard motioned for me . I ascended to her side , and spied three kagouti ( I instantly remembered their stumpy legs and tail ) further an otherwise - deserted caravan route below us . A fresh corpse , that of an alchemist , was being played with . Tiny , gleaming red eyes peered out below a helmet of plates . Snorting triumphantly , drool hanging from its fanged a drooped slack jaw , the largest kagouti charged the dead Dunmer , ramming into the body and using its tusk to scoop up its prey . The merchant landed in a mangled heap , and lay twitching . Fenrig was summoned to position himself for an ambush , and he quietly split apart from the others , with his dogs skirting the merchant ’ s path below to a vantage point of sharp boulders across from us . The kagouti had bitten down into the still form of the dead Elf , ripping open the alchemist ' s guts as it began to separate sections of Dunmeri meat for its lesser brethren . I nodded to Fenrig and we readied our bows as Ingjard slid down the embankment , shield and axe at the ready . The kagouti bull turned and roared at her , beginning a charge that ended with Ingjard ' s shield taking the full brunt of the kagouti ' s heavy head . Ingjard staggered back , her axe already swinging . The kagouti dropped its head , and the axe scraped off with only a nick . Her second swing was more successful ; as her axe dug up through its chin , the kagouti ' s eyes bulged and it sank into the ash floor with a wheeze . The lesser kagouti had already fallen to our arrows , sent ( with Kyne ' s blessing ) between the plated armor . As kagouti hide dried on our racks , Fang was growling at the Argonian again . Then hissing , which I hadn ' t heard before . Footfalls - in - Snow , it seemed , had befriended a lizard creature , which had taken to its new master like an Orc to violence . This was a scuttler : a more dog - sized , docile , and intelligent cousin of the guar , but not as tasty . It was snapping at Fenrig ' s hound , raising its back spines and flaring its neck ruff . I nodded to Fenrig , who snapped his fingers , and Fang slunk back to his feet , while the scuttler rubbed the Argonian ' s legs and made an odd cooing sound . There ' s a fine line between pets and pests , and that Argonian may have crossed it . KWAMA SCRIB , WARRIOR , AND WORKER . Our Argonian retainer volunteered for scouting work this morn , and despite Fenrig ' s grumbling protests , I gave him the chance to scour the volcanic gloom for signs of a kwama colony . Not five minutes had passed before the lizard returned , deftly dodging Fang ' s growling snaps ( those war dogs aren ' t fond of anything scaly , it seems ) , and dropping to his haunches at my tent . He quickly sketched a map in the ash , showing a narrow opening to a large cavern alarmingly close by . Fenrig entered , and gestured with a dismissive wave , “ We trust the hunt of this scaly fellow ? ” Footfalls - in - Snow peered up from his haunches as Fenrig continued . “ Grundvik , your map vanishes with the wind . The same fate awaits us if we wander down a lizard ' s path . ” Ingjard asked what was vexing him , and Fenrig stepped in front of the Argonian , seeking a more private conference . “ Between us Nords and Kyne ? My dogs don ' t trust him . That means I don ’ t trust him . This area is filled with fissures and loose scree , where a scaly hand can push you to meet Orkey . Where ' s the evidence of a kwama nest ? My dogs don ' t smell any . ” “ The ash particles block your dogs ' noses , friend . ” Footfalls - in - Snow spoke softly as he untied one of his many bags , and threw the still - twitching head of a kwama forager at our feet . “ And this isn ' t a trick of the light . I harvest kwama eggs in Black Marsh . ” Before Fenrig could respond , Bashnag poked his head and considerable shoulders through the tent flap . He was grinning like a madman meeting Sheogorath . “ My bearded friends ! And the stonefist woman ! ” The Orc waved his gauntlet excitedly . “ The lizard must be a magician , as he ’ s conjured a real force to test us ! Large , brown insect men approach ! While Mauloch commands me to slay them all , I might need — ” Bashnag ' s voice was severed as a broomstick - thin arm attached to an angular claw closed around his throat , and he was pulled violently outside . As tall as a Breton , but far less likely to utilize cunning political diplomacy to settle territorial disputes , the kwama are a hive - minded plague of giant insects sculpted by Kyne in shapes of varying grotesqueness . The Argonian was obviously right ; we were being swarmed by warriors , the defenders of the kwama colony ' s burrowing tunnels . Thin but powerful forearms , clad in plates of natural armor that extended around the neck and down the back to a rattling thorax , with a hunch and a head of further plating , out from which poked a small , snapping pincer mouth and two beady eyes . We were blessed by Kyne ' s generosity ; I had never seen as many of these foes in one place . We ' d have our pick of the spoils … if there were any of us left to claim them . . Our predicament was now less of a hunt , and more of a pitched battle . Normally , Bashnag ' s wanton bludgeoning resulted in less - than - pristine ingredients for our benefactor . But such was the choice of kwama scurrying over the gray rocks , I happily watched him cave in the skulls of a half dozen kwama warriors , as his red mist descended and his combat degenerated into a mass of flying limbs ( some detached ) and sickening crushing sounds . I ran to higher ground , introducing two slavering kwama warriors to the sharp end of my axe . Fenrig whistled , but this wasn ' t for the benefit of his dogs . He was forcing his way into a secondary entrance , which had far fewer warriors defending . Fang and Mauler seemed to be enjoying themselves as they hung onto various kwama appendages before their master finished their foes with an arrow . We met at the entrance , causing the warriors to retreat into the fissure crack where our Argonian first spotted them . Into the nest we descended , finding the passageways empty , until we found a hatching cavern large enough to accommodate us ( and Bashnag ' s wide - reaching combat style ) . A clattering of insect feet was heard further down the passage . As the Argonian began plucking eggs from their fluid sacs , we readied our ambush . A confused kwama worker scampered into our trap , and let out a shriek when Fenrig ' s swift axe connected . Staggering on its four legs , this dog - sized mass of curved head plates attached to a bulging , segmented body and four unsteady but talon - tipped legs lunged for Ingjard . She sidestepped the worker , missing its poisonous , snapping mandible . Those mouth talons helped carve the tunnels we were fighting in ; Nord bone would crack easily between its teeth . Fortunately , instead it fell to numerous Nord arrows , and deflated . More scurrying sounds , and a couple of scribs ( recently hatched larval forms ) scurried into our chamber , along with more warriors . They shared the same general appearance as their larger , more upright brethren , but were far less dangerous . Unfortunately , Fang ’ s overeagerness to leap into the fray allowed us to witness the scrib ' s only real means of defense : it managed to connect with a lunging bite , slowing the dog to a paralyzed stupor . Had this been a swarm of scribs , Fang ’ s malaise would have overwhelmed her . We quickly changed to our axes , blades , and hammers , and readied for more . Bashnag was holding back the warriors with rabid glee . “ Mauloch drinks your blood ! ” he yelled between prods , pummels , and wild mace swings . As Footfalls - in - Snow and Ingjard began to drag the scrib and worker corpses back outside for stripping , Bashnag adjusted his chin guard after a kwama warrior a little larger than the Orc ' s previous victims clambered over the pile of insect bodies and caught Bashnag squarely in the jaw with two swift punches , augmented by a crackle of magical energy . “ You hit like a forge wife ! ” Bashnag retorted , as he staggered back , allowing the warrior to scrape the ground with its talons , and swiftly stomp the dirt . Up shot a sharp spine of hardened ash , gashing the Orc in the leg . This eruption was not to last ; Bashnag unleashed his fury , grabbed the warrior ’ s head , and twisted it apart from its humped shoulders . Thick ooze coated the Orc and the walls of the cavern . The remaining kwama swarm watched their champion ’ s decapitation with uncertainty , allowing us to roll a boulder to block further investigation and hasten our escape . We retreated back into the Ashlands , dragging our corpse loot away from the colony ' s clutches . Although Bashnag would have merrily fustigated his way to the kwama queen herself , we had all the eggs , meat , and leather we needed . While Bashnag stitched up his leg , I asked the Argonian how the extraction of cuttle ( the waxy extract from within a kwama ' s beak ) was coming along . Footfalls - in - Snow rummaged in one of his many carrying satchels , and produced a strange tool , flat and smooth at one end , with sharpened , barbed edges at the other . “ This is a t - thuk , in the tongue of my egg brothers , ” he said , showing me the correct way to grip the device . “ It pries apart bone as a Colovian burns a forest : quickly and without much forethought . ” Taking the dismembered kwama heads from Bashnag ' s collection bag , the Argonian swiftly jammed the instrument up through the beak palate and cracked it open , and raw cuttle spilled out onto his catch cloth . He flipped the tool and used the sharper edges to scrape any remaining matter still embedded within the beak . Then he repeated the process with the other intact heads . A most impressive scavenging technique : his method meant there were no skull shards to pick through , and the cuttle remained moist before sealing in our merchant jars . The Argonian proved his usefulness for a second time today . ALIT . The ash winds died down a little as we passed into the fertile plains of Deshaan , thankful to breathe clear air . We followed a gloomy trader ' s path interrupted by the green glow of marker lanterns . As we skirted Mournhold , we decided to hug the edge of the fungal forest . My concerns for Footfalls - in - Snow grow as a wart on the nose of a hagraven ; he seemed mesmerized by the glimmering mushrooms . I requested he not lead us into a mire . He beckoned me over , and pointed to the tracks we ’ d been following , gesturing to a grazing area of short grass and loose boulders . “ Alit . Beware ; they are not without teeth . ” Alit leather is highly prized by Ashlanders , and more so by our benefactor , but we were halted by the Argonian ; he wished to face these creatures alone and prove his mettle . We watched as he crawled towards two thickly set walking mouths , squat , scaled , and ferocious of claw . Beady yellow eyes darted , and nostril slits embedded into a mottled green mantle sniffed the air nervously . Soon after , a shrieking roar from the larger alit signaled the Argonian ' s ambushed had failed , as the beasts split from their feeding and circled our tracker , in an attempt to surround and bewilder him . Footfalls - in - Snow charged at the bigger alit ; it dug its oversized claws into the ground and braced for the Argonian ' s dagger , which struck the beast behind the eye . A shallow wound , but a hit nevertheless ! The smaller alit leapt , attempting a rip to the face , but our lizard friend ducked the attack , and drove his dagger into the neck . The beast slumped forward , deflating like a punctured bladder . The remaining alit chose an inopportune moment to widen its mouth into a roaring bite ; the Argonian plunged his blade directly into the maw ; the alit choked and writhed as spittle and blood sprayed the grazing grounds . “ You ' re looking a little green around the gills , ” Fenrig remarked with a smile . Fenrig ' s moroseness has lessened in recent days . Perhaps our Argonian friend is more of an asset than I first realized . GUAR . We are guests in the land of the Dunmer , and although some of the greener - tinged members may not act with appropriate veneration even without mead flowing through their veins , we must respect the Dark Elf and their way of life . Passing into the realm of Deshaan , we encountered farms of grazing guar , one of the many oddly proportioned , bulbous - headed creatures that are bred as pack animals or mounts . Our descendants will not sing songs about the triumphs of a band of grubby poachers . Kyne would not smile fondly on our steadiness with a bow when aiming at a chicken or a goat . So we hunt feral guar across the ribbons of windswept grass . Fenrig ' s dogs picked up the scent and stayed a respectful distance away from our kill ; their master is an exceptional shepherd . Slightly darker , marked with scars both old and fresh , and lapping at pond water near a meandering stream , Fenrig ' s dogs crept away , while he produced a finely forged blade and equally robust shield . The guar , looking up with tiny forearms tucked in behind its bulging snout , gapped teeth lining its dribbling mouth , spotted Fenrig and hissed . The Argonian ' s scuttler twitched and hissed back , and I shot a glare for the lizard to stifle the noise . Hardened feral head hit tempered iron shield as the guar turned from a trot to a sprint , sending Fenrig reeling onto his back , his weapon dropped . The guar attempted a mighty leap , landing atop Fenrig , where the beast ' s intermittent rows of stumpy ( but sharp ) teeth darted and snapped into the Nord ' s forearm , glancing off the armor with a clang . Fenrig soon regained his composure ( and his sword ) , stuffing the full length of the weapon up to the hilt through the guar ' s exposed belly , which ripped apart as a feast of internal parts tumbled out , splattering the ground while the guar squealed and dropped atop its bits . Mauler and Bashnag both licked their lips , although the Orc wait longer for his meal . The dogs feasted on offal and bones while the Argonian stripped the hide from the corpse . It hung to dry as we enjoyed slightly tough ( but eminently edible ) roasted guar fillets . Fenrig abstained from eating , with a faraway look in his eyes . BULL NETCH . The Ashlander camp was partially burned . The guar pens were broken , with bodies of livestock strewn and scattered about the grassy plain . A family of netch were huddled together above a small lake , close to the burned - out tents and charred Dunmeri corpses . Ingjard reckoned the dead were on the march in these parts . Footfalls - in - Snow noted that netch leather and jelly were on our list to gather . Our slaughter work was seemingly done , but upon closer inspection , the netch corpses had been baking too long in the sun , and were bubbling with putrefaction . The leather was salvageable , though a fresher kill was needed . While Fenrig began to skin the rotting netch , we advanced to the lake to view a bull , a betty netch , and two calves . The larger of these hovering beasts was growing increasingly agitated , and its internal propulsion sacs were pulsing with vapors . We covered our noses , slowed our breathing , and advanced , coaxing the bull away from its family with a precise Argonian arrow up through the soft underbelly flesh . Bashnag was seemingly unprepared for the slap he received , and seemed surprised to be on his back , coated in a cloud of poison bloom the bull had violently shaken out as it pressed the attack . Scrambling back with a splutter and a wheeze , the Orc managed to place a mighty swing of his obscenely sized mace right into the netch ’ s side . I heard a crack as the netch wobbled , its tentacles shuddering , before it retaliated , violently plunging its arms down into Bashnag ’ s unbalanced form with a focused thrust . The Orc staggered back in the shallow waters , spat out a tooth , grinned , and swung his mace in a great arc once more . The hit was impressive , crushing hide and bone , and the bull dropped from the air with a thick , wet thud . The Argonian was at the body with a carving knife before the bull had stopped twitching . “ We feast well tonight , lad ! ” Bashnag shouted at me . Siphoning the glands for its jelly , Footfalls - in - Snow quickly and patiently explained that netch meat was mostly poisonous , and less appetizing “ than the toe fungus from a spriggan . ” The Orc muttered something about “ rather gnaw on Witchmen bones anyway , ” and stomped off to apply antidote to his ingested blight . NIX - HOUND . Among the rocky outcrops littering the plains of billowing grass , Fenrig first found the tracks , close to a pile of old , gnawed bones and the rags of an Ashlander . “ A pack of five , perhaps six . Down into the mushroom woods , ” Fenrig pointed to the trees swaying in the breeze , their twilight shadows lessened by the faint glow of the giant fungi poking up from the forest floor . He whistled , and Fang went bounding down into the bushes , closely followed by her furry brother . Bashnag was feeling better , and even recognized the footprints of a nix - hound ; he recalled driving them out of King Kurog ’ s animal pens in lower Wrothgar . “ They ’ re as fast as a wolf , but are too simple minded to flee a fight they ' re losing , ” he explained . “ Perhaps a description of a certain Orc I could mention ? ” I thought , but decided not to utter . Instead , I remarked that I was surprised these creatures had made their way so far west . I was less surprised that the Orc hadn ' t heard of the alchemical qualities of the beast ' s meat . Perhaps the horribly bitter taste had put him off ? The Argonian confirmed nix - hound flesh , a small amount of blood , and “ at least four intact claws ” were required by our benefactor . I requested that Bashnag keep his bludgeoning to a minimum until our quota was met . The moons were large and glistening as Ingjard adjusted her bowstring , and the bird song and forest voices quietened , replaced by the faint sounds of rustling . Then commotion in the damp undergrowth . Extending our hunting tendrils out to surround Fenrigs , his dogs , and our prey , we encroached on a clearing where Fang was staring , back arched and fur up , at a spindly looking creature , all sharp claws and hooked knees , a serrated , insect - like back , erect and threatening , with a crown of armored skin above a revolting face with pink , cloudy eyes of differing sizes embedded between quivering mandibles , dominated by a sword - shaped snout . It emitted a baying shriek as it saw its chances of a meal dwindle , and leapt at Fang anyway . It landed behind Fang ; its nose swung and scraped the dog ’ s hindquarters , before the Nix - Hound was put on its back permanently by one of Ingjard ' s arrows . Fang began to pad forward with jaws open to play with the corpse , but a quick whistle from Fenrig kept the corpse intact . The perimeter of the clearing shimmered slightly . Three more nix - hounds decided to end their lives on our armaments . One found the only opening in Bashnag ' s armor , mounted the Orc , and began quickly leeching the blood from his neck . It was merrily gulping down fluids until it felt a gauntlet around its throat . Too late I shouted to the Orc to keep the body intact ; it was thrown to the ground with enough force to wake a sleeping draugr , and squashed under mace and armored boot . A collection of protruding bones and indistinct offal remained . Fenrig and Mauler fared a little better , his sword clashing with nix - hound nose before the head was lopped off with the type of clean , quick precision I ’ d expected of a Nord . Ingjard was slightly perplexed as her target blinked from existence behind a tree , only to reappear behind her , rearing up for a stab to the back . I brought my axe across the back of the last nix - hound , severing it completely . Mauler lapped up the blood as I brought out my vial and daintily filled it with the blood we needed . Our meal was easily forgotten ; nix - hound meat is sour as a jilted Breton queen . Footfalls - in - Snow was simmering some mushrooms from the Bitter Coast , which helped mask the taste somewhat . Bashnag rubbed his neck vigorously . “ By Vivec ' s curse , is there anything we ’ re hunting in this infested province that won ' t give me an itch , cough , or droop ? ” “ Do not tremble , tiny leaf , ” Footfalls - in - Snow replied , “ for you have finally stopped soiling yourself ; the Afraid Wind lessens to a mere draft . Your illness vanishes on the breeze . ” Us Nords stopped our low murmuring and Ingjard reached for a mead bottle . “ Your rudeness displeases Mauloch greatly , lizard , ” the Orc retorted . “ Perhaps the only delicious creature in Morrowind is an Argonian ? Would you share your tail with us , lizard ? I hear it grows back . ” The Argonian peered up at the Orc over the steaming cooking pot , and gritted his teeth . “ Unlike a wasteful Orc , Argonians use every parts of their prey . Your skin would make a good drumhead . ” Bashnag ' s laughter echoed across the plains . It was fortunate that the Orc hadn ’ t realized the Argonian ' s hackles were up .