Kyne ' s Challenge : A Hunter ' s Companion / Hammerfell Content . " Hidden Horrors in the Shifting Sands " GIANT SCORPION . Scorpions in the southern foothills of Skyrim are tiny fellows , poked by curious or repugnant children , played with by dogs , and eaten by grass snakes . But in the deserts of Hammerfell , and in particular the flat stone outcrops of southern Bangkorai , their cousins have grown to gigantic proportions : The hot weather and cool nights allow them to prey on man , mer , and beast — any creature venturing into their hunting grounds . Our example sat on a carapace of mottled red and black bone , a brown arced tail with a purple - tinged poison sac and a vicious - looking stinger in a permanent state of readiness . Two vertical fangs rubbing up and down under three pairs of tiny white eyes . Six thin legs and pincers as sharp as any forged sword at the front . Fenrig would earn his pay this evening . A barking growl by Mauler and steady backward pacing coaxed the huge scuttler forwards , towards the jut Fenrig was staring down intently from . The dog tumbled back as a pincer the size of Mauler stabbed forwards , snapping the dog ' s shadow . Fang barked and showed her remaining teeth , and the scorpion launched forward and quickly whipped its tail over its head , striking Fang across her side . The dog let out a soft wail and dropped down passively , paralyzed by the precise and poisoned infliction . I motioned for our company to remain behind our vantage points as the scorpion clattered over to the prone dog . A serrated pincer cupped the dog ' s sagging form and was about to cut Fang in half , when Fenrig dropped by . His grace was masterful . He landed precisely on the grooved opening between the thorax carapace and the tail , and plunged a dagger deep between the protective plates . An old trick the Ash ' abah used to cripple , and avoid the thankless task of penetrating the hardened back of the beast . Leaping off with a sword unsheathed , Fenrig rolled forward , bringing his full might down on the pincer holding his war dog . It cut deeply , and Fang fell to the sand . The scorpion ' s six white eyes narrowed , its red dewlap opening and closing in alarm . Both claws punched forward , sending a puff of dirt up from Fenrig ' s previous position . But his new location was at the side of the scorpion , where a second vicious plunge severed the tail . Fluid spilled across the sands , the tortured creature quickly silenced with a skewering through its head . Chitin and some venom were harvested , but our night camp was prepared with giant scorpion flesh in mind . Distressingly , the meat was so bitter , I initially pondered whether Footfalls - in - Snow had cooked the tail in an elaborate plan to poison us . But after some ample seasoning , and more than a little mead , it became much more palatable . CLANNFEAR . Strange stone structures among the foothills of the Alik ' r Desert . But other oddities : creatures foreign to this realm . A pack of two - legged animals , sharing an odd lineage with the Argonian : a vaguely reptilian look , but coated in the filth of the Daedra . A primitive and feral kind , seemingly in the service of a higher - functioning leader , although we found no evidence of a summoner in these parts . Rows of sharp - finned back plates tapered off to a thick , sinewy tail of intermittent spines . Vicious hooks protruded from feet and claw , as the creature ' s markings became more mottled towards the head , which was a proud crest of bone ; a crest of skin wrapped tight ; pale , hollow eyes with a darting speck of black peering back at us . Rows of uneven teeth behind a beaked mouth , stained with blood . Scuffing its feet against the rock below the sands for purchase , then bounding forward with protruding head lowered , the clannfear struck Fang with a butting charge , hoisting the dog over a rock , where it landed with a hard thud and a yelp . The other two beasts bayed with a strange half whinny , half cackle . This was enough to set Fenrig off : A hand axe disappeared into the clannfear ' s neck , and it writhed and gurgled as Fenrig retrieved his weapon , boot on the body , wrenching the axe back . Fang was soon on the mend , and Fenrig sat watching Bashnag sever clannfear claws and Daedra hearts from his kills , the Nord merrily singing " Wergital the Wolf - Boy . " DUNERIPPER . The Alik ' r Desert offers the careless wanderer a place of delirium : miles of shifting sands , sweeping dunes and parched earth , and scattered stone monuments and soft - cornered rock formations . It was here that our heavy cloaks and snow boots were discarded , and our armpits breathed again ( all but Bashnag , who refused to remove his armor plates , and is beginning to ripen like a skeever corpse in the sun ) . Three days out from Sentinel in the lands of the Ash ' abah , we met up with Kishra - do at a caravan stop , and deposited our spoils . Thankfully , Orc and Khajiit animosity was at a low ebb . Hard - shelled fins cut the surface of the sand : rapid undulations like waves , then an explosion of soil and small stones . " Sand crocodile ! " Footfalls - in - Snow barked , readying a spear and a defensive stance . The Argonian was perceptive ; this creature ' s size and hunting pattern were similar , but it featured more prominent and sharp - pointed chitinous scales , arranged in diminishing size across its back and along its thrashing tail . " Duneripper , " Kishra - do answered , with purring enthusiasm . As the mass of deep red and light yellow plates clambered from its sand hole , hooked mouth widening to display a gullet wide enough to swallow an ogre , the Khajiit offered to perform for us . " It rips the dunes with its fin ; hence the name , yes ? " Kishra - do explained , sidestepping around the yawn of the beast ' s mouth , which snapped with a bite , then opened again . " Quick in short bursts , they smother you suddenly , " she continued , and as if on command , the duneripper sank headfirst into the ground , shaking the soft earth below the Khajiit . " But this one is unclawed ! " She turned as the duneripper rose behind her , leapt up and onto the beast ' s back , and plunged down one of her many daggers . She was off before the duneripper realized it had been pierced . " Short , stumpy legs . More so than your Orc ! " Kishra - do winked at Bashnag , whose grin widened , and he nudged the Argonian , who stumbled forward , dropping the carapace - cracking tools he was readying . Coaxing the duneripper into a thrashing sweep of its tail , Kishra - do easily evaded and sprang forward on all four padded paws . " By Sangiin ' s hidden knife ! " She dropped behind the neck of the duneripper , plunging two more daggers into softer underside skin . " Ready , Argonian ? " she asked , using the duneripper ' s momentum to flip it onto its side and gouge out a huge rift along its belly . It was alive as its entrails flopped out onto the sand . We offered polite applause , and uncorked the mead that evening . LAMIA . The desert lamia is a creature to be both feared and loathed . Superior in size to their aquatic relatives ( a monster I ' d hunted throughout High Rock in my youth ) , the orange - scaled miscegenations , a corrupted form of snake and woman , are known to use brute force and magic , lightning and song , to charm and disarm their victims . Their intelligence is no mere animal instinct ; they speak in their own forked tongue , and sometimes gather numerous trinkets in their lairs . The female form is often misunderstood ; it is a mirage to coax the lascivious males that make up most of their prey , as this creature reproduces as a base reptile , and is sexless . Their appetite is legendary ; they feed on skin , flesh , innards , and finally the bone of their prey . Many whisper these are descended from the spawn of Lamae of our Nedic ancestors , violated by Molag Bal in ancient times past . Ingjard expressed a particular worry regarding the Argonian , as we quietly stalked lamia tracks to her small cave in a cluster of sandstone rocks deep within the Alik ' r plains . The sky had turned a deep red , and the rocks seemed to glow after the boiling of the hot day . " It will be difficult enough to keep Bashnag from being mesmerized . " Ingjard spoke quietly , as we spotted the lamia swaying slightly on the cooling winds through the boulders . It sat on a thick and well - muscled tail counterbalancing the torso , always upright , even when idling . " Our prey and the lizard have a similar appearance . " She was rightly concerned ; the lamia did indeed share more than a passing resemblance to Footfalls - in - Snow . But where the ophidian features they shared ended , more primitive hooked crests , odious fangs , scaled hooks at the elbow , and a huge serpent ' s mass began . Then the lamia ' s singing approached on the wind , a sweet but strange , lilting tone to befuddle and trap . " As mud is my mother , a sweeter sound even than leaves softly rustling in the breeze of the Tree ! " Footfalls - in - Snow was upon our viewing point , and Ingjard ' s fears were forming . After instructing the Argonian to be wary of approach and carry his weapon unsheathed , he simply ignored our advice , which had previously been strictly adhered to . " By the Egg . A wondrous creature ! " He took off , approaching the lamia as she slowly weaved back and forth and smiled through spellbinding song and dripping fangs . " Stretch your tail here in peace , " Footfalls - in - Snow remarked . The lamia beckoned him forward . Still the fool ventured . The smile turned quickly to a scream . The Argonian was snapped from his stupor as the scream intensified until it manifested itself as a shrieking blow , flaying lizard skin . Clutching his ruptured ear slits , Footfalls - in - Snow faltered , on his knees in a daze , then was picked up by the throat , and was soon to be swallowed . Ingjard was upon the fiend with my arrows at her sides . This was enough to snap the lamia ' s concentration . " Spell weaver ! " Ingjard confirmed , as her adversary ' s maw crackled with additional offense ; a bolt of lightning spat forth , rattling Ingjard ' s shield . Before it took another gasp of air , Ingjard charged in , belting the creature with her shield , and widening an arrow hole below the beast ' s scaly breast . Claws flashed , but the wind was at least knocked out of the lamia . It sank into a soggy pile , neck sliced and gushing . A fitting end . Footfalls - in - Snow was tasked with skinning and drying the lamia skin , and milking the venom . He went about his chores gladly , as we had promised not to mention his shortfalls to the Orc . YOKUDAN GARGOYLE . The necropolis we had endured the sweltering sands of the Alik ' r Desert to find had finally given up its whereabouts . Ingjard sketched in our approximate bearings on our benefactor ' s map , and we made camp in the deep shadows of the red rocks a few hundred strides from the threshold . The Orc had finally agreed to unbuckle his armor and freshen his odor , but was , once again , consuming more than his fair share of water . Fortunately , our Argonian retainer exhibits a steadfast competence and sourced a nearby well , still occasionally used by the local Redguard nomads . " Ah , more water ! Now , if only this was a jug of Ungorth ! " Bashnag reached for the pot , which was cooling after boiling , spilling some on the dirt , and more down his front . " You thirst encroaches on us like a briar patch , " Footfalls - in - Snow muttered , reaching for empty buckets and starting a return trip . The Orc hadn ' t heard him . " Walk with Mauloch … " Mauloch waved the departing Argonian . " Wait , shall I call you Footfalls - in - Snow now , lizard ? " " Shall I call you ' Mindless - Who - Mangled - with - Mace ' ? " came the reply , through a painted smile . " Trolls ' teeth ! ” Fenrig seethed , glaring at the two of them . “ Silence this bickering , or I ' ll beat the Orc to death with the Argonian ' s arm . " A period of tranquility descended on the camp . Until Footfalls - in - Snow returned with more than water . " Bashnag , I ' ve found your cousin ! " Footfalls - in - Snow was out of breath , one of his water buckets missing . " You aunt had a union with a bat , and Mauloch cursed the creations into stone , I think ! " Ingjard was up with her sword , stepping between the quarreling pair , and keeping a worried and watchful eye on Fenrig . I beckoned my Nord brother ( but not his dogs ) and we crept around the loose rubble , following lizard tracks . " We should have scouted the outskirts with the dedication of a mead - drinking competition . " Fenrig spoke softly but critically , and almost to himself , as we saw the source of the Argonian ' s mirth . The remains of a once - grand entrance up to a derelict funerary temple . Stone steps still partly visible in the drifting sand . Fallen arches . Strange , ceremonial carvings . Guarding this outer avenue were two huge statues , easily three times our girths . Each was a grotesque , crouched on haunches , one watching over us with a blank stare , while the elements had struck the other down ; it had lost a head and an arm , the former of which looked up from the sands below its own pedestal . The actual carving of each statue seemed to echo the Argonian ' s description : a giant sandstone imp with the features of a primitive Orc , a toned form with loincloth , feet and hands of coiled claws , and oversized wings folded into the back . We slowly approached , passing a discarded Nord bucket , and Fenrig sniffed the air . " Statues don ' t smell … " Fenrig ' s nose helped us realize our predicament one moment before a journey to Sovngarde was assured ; he pushed me aside as a heavy stone fist fell where I had stood . It was attached to the statue , now animated and red eyed , cracking a scowl and unfurling wings as high as Dragonsreach . It had leapt from its perch , hoping to surprise and pulverize . I tumbled again , narrowly missing two more thudding slams that echoed around the valley . I readied the iron hammer Jorunn the Skald - King had awarded me after the recent defense of Windhelm . The weapon flickered with lightning . I struck with tremendous force , buckling one of its knees . Gargoyle fists uncurled , and it hobbled towards me . I parried two mighty swipes , repelling almost certain laceration . This unnatural brute seemed to gain in strength and fury , as further strikes failed to weaken our bones . Both fists now clenched , it pounded the ground with such force that it shook and took our feet from under us . " It feeds from this ! Like a vampire ! " I shouted , seeing the gargoyle ' s kneecap grow over the fresh wound . My bones were old but not brittle ; I bounded forwards and slammed the hammer down onto a stone foot . A pool of light writhed up the gargoyle ' s leg , and it shattered . The fiend fell onto its side , and gritted its teeth . These were soon scattered across the sands as the final hammering broke its cheek . Its head hung to the side , red eyes flickered to black , and it joined its broken brother in the dirt at the foot of the funereal ruins . We returned , having drained our adversary of its humours . Fenrig tossed the bottles at Bashnag , who was furious at missing his chance to help , as he ' d only just finished struggling into his rancid armor . " Try not to drink these , pit bait , " Fenrig remarked , before tending to his dogs . SKELETON AND MUMMY . Ancient and parched stone ruins stretched across a sweeping dune plateau . The vast necropolis surrounded us on all sides . The frozen gestures and stone stares of two large ceremonial statues ( the stationary kind ) warned us to stay away , but no guardians strode out to warn us against trespass . Instead , we were greeted by an eerie silence . We all spent time squinting against the setting sun , watching for an ambush , but even Fenrig ' s favored eyes couldn ' t pick out anything but the inky dots of the carved holes embedded in the parapets above . These were entrances leading to a labyrinth where hundreds of the Redguard ' s ancestors were said to be entombed . Bashnag ( loudly ) wondered whether it was worth ransacking the place for valuables . I sternly reminded him we were here to test the quality of our weapons and our competency with them , and gather remains from those we hunted , not resort to thievery during a period of civil unrest . The Orc was about to utter something to anger Fenrig again ( as was his innate ability ) , so it came almost as a relief when the obelisk torches burst into life before our eyes , illuminated by magic . A watcher from the battlements . Favored armaments were now at the ready , as the necropolis began to breathe . " Up there , above the great door ! " Fenrig saw a figure , a Redguard speck dressed in the garb of a Daedric priest . A staff seemingly ablaze with slow - moving blue fire . Our arrows clattered around him , but he was too far and stepped into an alcove . Instinctively , we spread out across the plateau , finding cover among the pillars and fallen stonework . A faint rumble from below the ground . Fine dust dislodged from the two huge entrance doors . The ground shook slightly . Now clattering and thudding footsteps as the fetid air rushed out to greet our nostrils . We braced for a wave of bones . Skeletons . More than a handful . Then well over a dozen , until our counting stopped , and our arrows began to fly . Some clad in armor : Redguard warriors from the time of Lord Frandar Hunding , the first warrior - prince . Brittle soldiers , but single minded in purpose , and wielding a variety of implements , from scimitar s to bows . Slack jaws chattering , but dust of a thousand years still falling from their forms . Occasionally glimpsed within the ranks of this small army were bandaged corpses , animated priests pressed into service by the priest on the battlements . Their embalmed forms tattered , but their strength and spirit heightened by time away from this world . These were not draugr ; a malignant light flickered within these husks and bones , guiding them into a frenzy of combat . Each one fought as they did in life , with the nimble dexterity of a proud Redguard soldier . The Nords took to the sides , gaining height and distance . " If you can ' t be safe , be tough ! " Bashnag yelled as he sped past me . " Taste Mauloch ' s mace , you Elf lovers ! " Bashnag charged headlong to satisfy his blood lust , although on this occasion , there were few innards to spill . A wild swing , and a skeleton ' s head was shattered into dust . A second rotation : the oversized Orc mace crushing the rib cage and separating the spine of two more bony foes . But more took their place , and we lost sight of Bashnag as he swarmed . Periodically during the battle , I checked for his safety by listening for his swearing and spotting him in the throng as more bones and skulls went flying . Footfalls - in - Snow was faring less well . Helpful arrows from the Nords had hindered the undead advancement on the right flank , where the Argonian had made a tactical blunder . Few climbing opportunities , and nowhere to flee to . He had fallen and was valiantly defending himself from his back . But the horde was almost upon him . I watched the great doors for a slowing of foes , but there was none . I glanced up , took careful aim , and released a true shot ; it whistled through the air , striking the Daedric wizard in the shoulder . His trance broken , he fled from his viewing platform . I checked the doors again : The river of Redguards past had slowed to a trickle . The battle still raged , but our odds had improved . The Argonian had scrambled to a dead end , and our arrows weren ' t dropping his adversaries fast enough . Realizing his predicament , he rummaged in a satchel and unrolled a scroll , beginning to babble in Jel , the ancient Argonian tongue . I made out a single name during the incantation : " Zymel Shar . " Bandaged fingers were about to close around his neck as the spell ended , and a ferocious wind circled around the lizard . Thin forms were flung and tossed about as we glimpsed into Oblivion . Out from the damned world lumbered a hulking form , a core of white light oscillating beneath a floating series of stone appendages . A roughly fashioned head , broad shoulders , thick iron chains glowing with Daedric scripture . Towering over all . Footfalls - in - Snow had summoned a storm atronach . A cluster of boulders in the rough shape of a fist slammed down hard , then swiped widely , as Zymel Shar guarded its master . Half a dozen skeletons fell with a single swat of this man - sized hand , bones broken and souls snuffed . The threat to the Argonian had lessened considerably , so we trained our bows on the fracas between Orc and mummy ; I scolded Fenrig for accidentally striking the Orc with an arrow , as I knew his aim was better than that . Meanwhile , the wind was whipping up around the storm atronach , as it waded knee deep into a lake of bones and dust corpses ( an accurate description , except for the atronach ' s lack of knees ) . Arcs of lightning danced around its form , binding the stronger mummies to an even slower plod , while the weaker skeletons simply detonated into plumes of bone powder . STORM ATRONACH . The tide of dust was turning . But Bashnag ' s victory was tempered , as the remaining forces of the necropolis couldn ' t be cudgeled and simply sank to the ground , their will drowned and spirits recalled to the dark desert labyrinth . He was lucky , then , that Footfalls - in - Snow ' s attempts to control his summoned creation were becoming strained ( at least , that is what he swore to us happened ) . " Bashnag ! My Daedra becomes unruly , as the swamp seeks to swallow the mangrove tree . I fear it finds you an interesting distraction ! " As expected , the Orc seemed positively jubilant at the prospect of an additional carnage , and the blood rage still flowed . What better way to expel his temper ? Immense stone feet pressed bone into powder as the storm atronach advanced on Bashnag . " By Mauloch ! " A manic , spittle - filled grin , and the Orc revolved his mace around his head , readying for an opening . The atronach answered by conjuring a swift static charge about its floating body parts , which increased in intensity before it was released with a thunderous roar : a bolt of energy to shock and burn . Bashnag seemed to thrive on the pain it delivered , and brought down his mace with vengeance . The atronach ' s head section cracked . A grunt , a leap , and a second tremendous wallop . The head of stone split apart ; a ball of light expanded and then retreated into nothingness . Daedric runes carved into iron bindings dimmed . Then the atronach collapsed , its spirit forced back in Oblivion . We learned later that this necropolis was dedicated to the evil usurper king Ra Boshek , and the lich of the ruler had recently been awakened . So our plight could have been substantially more burdensome . The subsequent hours were spent picking through the bones , and gathering the considerable spoils Kyne had bestowed upon us . But our mead drinking commenced away from the necropolis threshold ; it had been defiled enough . WEREWOLF . This day has been long and troubled . Kyne ' s mischief ? No ; a previously trusted hunter raised my ire , kept hidden knowledge from me for too long , and now watches with her head in her hands as we burn the bodies of two of our group . A bitter root for all of us to taste . But Ingjard is not the reason the Argonian tends to a deep wound across his face ( and narrowly avoided a blinding ) : She was caught between a barrow and a crypt , and her loyalties split down the middle . No , I am to blame for the bloodshed in Bergama market . I am accountable for the death of Bashnag gro - Gorzoth . Unknowingly , I was the one who brought that diseased worshipper of Hircine into our ranks . Peering back into the past , the signs are as plain as the nose on an Imperial ' s face , but I was too blinded with the thrill of the hunt to notice : The wistful stares and frequent disappearances . His unusually edgy demeanor and reluctance in the hunting of wolves . The distaste for mead . By Ysmir ' s beard , I pride myself on my abilities to read such behavior ! Instead , I was preoccupied by tracking , the burden of gathering ingredients , and distrusting Footfalls - in - Snow , instead of the skeever masquerading as my own kin . I ' d have lain prostrate before Molag Bal before willingly letting a werewolf join the group . Yet here we are , binding our wounds while placating the locals for their troubles . Fenrig the Unsteady , I curse you to Sovngarde . Our meeting with Kishra - do in the oasis of Bergama was uneventful . The afternoon was spent updating our ledger of ingredients , and taking in the sights of this bustling market town . Fine linens , impressive weavework , and potent , hypnotic odors . But one among us favored isolation . He had been more melancholy since Skyrim , and his condition had worsened . A lone wolf and his two cubs , refusing to speak to anyone but Ingjard . When a disheveled Fenrig finally joined us at the blacksmith ' s , his beard plait unknotted , Bashnag was the first to greet him , in his usual tactless manner : " Gore and glory , Fenrig , you dungheap ! Learning the ways of the hermit ? " Fenrig ' s response was immediate and unanticipated : He dived across the stall , arms splitting out of his armor , hands stretching into long , clawed talons . His undershirt ripped off , skin sprouting a thick mane of hair along the forearms and chest . A terrible transformation in the face : nose crackling and stretching to form a black snout , mouth ripped open and incisors growing to fangs in an instant . Eyeballs yellowing into a wild glint . A tail sprouting from the base of his hairy back . Saliva frothing from a dropped jaw , now snarling with malice . Before he had the chance to unbuckle his mace , Bashnag was pounced on and dragged to the ground in a display of immense strength , and Fenrig bit down . Clods of quivering neck flesh and a fountain of Orc blood . Bashnag flashed a look of surprise as he grabbed his throat , but this bleeding could not be stemmed . His confused expression was hidden as Fenrig ' s frenzy intensified , flesh flying as his claws tore through green skin and bone . Bashnag ' s last act in this realm was almost a reflexive one : instinctively grabbing a belt dagger and thrusting it into Fenrig ' s side . The werewolf let out a howl and fell off the Orc . " Shor ' s bones ! " Ingjard rushed to stem Bashnag ' s bleeding , wiping the blood from his face . But the Orc ' s eyes stared up blankly ; his soul had already departed for the Battle Pit of Mauloch . Tellingly , Fenrig ' s despicable form shied away from tearing into Ingjard . Orc blood dripped from Fenrig ' s maw and claws . His war dogs hunched down into a defensive spring , baring the same kind of teeth as their master . The werewolf gave three short howls , and the dogs leapt for Kishra - do and her Redguard companion . Footfalls - in - Snow pounced on Fang , slitting her stomach quickly ( and with curious predilection ) , leaving Mauler for the Khajiit . I could not observe how the dog died , as Fenrig ' s powerful bounding and bared teeth were aimed in my direction . As I hastened backwards , I fell over a scattering of traders ' wares , and I was set upon . Two rapid swipes to the face , and a fierce clawing to my belly , and my fine leather armor was cut deep . The next raking would gouge skin . Then the leap of a lizard , as Footfalls - in - Snow pounced on the back of the werewolf . It rolled over , savaging the Argonian about the face . But this heroic act allowed me to stand , take my axe , and assail our erstwhile companion . A slice just below the ribs , and deep red blood gushed out . Wild eyes and a lolling tongue — Fenrig ' s ferocity only increased . He sprang to his haunches , now surrounded by the unafflicted . " Step aside , Grundvik . " I turned and watched as Ingjard , tears streaming from her face , quickened her pace , readied the spear , and launched forth with a scream . There was no time for Fenrig to bound away ; he was pierced through the gut , hoisted over Ingjard ' s head , and slammed into the dirt , freshly skewered . There he lay , images of his old face glimmering , contorted , and almost mournful , realizing what he had done as his last breaths drew shallow . Fenrig the Unsteady . A fine hunter , but a cursed fellow : A blight from Hircine . Although we mourned , our predicament was remarkably not precarious . Kishra - do offered reparations to the startled merchants and the wares we had destroyed . Ingjard offered the Argonian a tender hand of healing . And Kyne ' s challenge was not over yet . The wilds of Summerset Isles , Valenwood , Black Marsh , and Elsweyr must be tamed . We wait for Fenrig ' s twin , Roggvir the Ready ( who Ingjard has sworn on her life is not afflicted by the same condition ) , to journey from Rorikstead to collect his brother ' s ashes and offer recompense . We are indebted to Namasur at - Hamisam of the Ash ' abah for his diplomacy among the citizens of Bergama in the trail of Fenrig ' s violence . But Egvir Unslaad : We now begin our journey across southern Tamriel with heavy spears . Kyne speed you , Bashnag gro - Gorzoth , and split some skulls for me . You have earned the right to sit by the right hand of Mauloch .