Kyne ' s Challenge : A Hunter ' s Companion / Valenwood Content . " Dark Forests of Daedra , and the Colovian Reapers " MUDCRAB . The Argonian was in his element as we descended into the coastal mangrove swamps of Greenshade , wading across to reach the rock elevations . But further inland , the place becomes most uncomfortable , the sweat pouring down your back and chafing in areas best left unmentioned . Footfalls - in - Snow ' s two familiars also seemed to enjoy a frolic in the brown , oozing water , and both Namasur and Roggvir returned from scouting : they reported no dangers , aside from fleshflies enjoying a feast on our exposed skin . Later , as the sun set , the Argonian was drawn to a rocky pool , his eyes fixated on a large mudcrab , this one a deeper red in coloration , with slightly larger pincers . It didn ' t seem as enthused to see Scuttler , and was positively aggressive to Young Salty , the Argonian ' s other animal friend ( and northern mudcrab breed ) . Unless you ' re a Cyrodilic noble who receives lounging on your back , cooked by servants within a walled fortification , and have an aversion to hard work , you must have an idea of what a mudcrab looks like . Two tiny orange eyes peering out beneath a lumpy but relatively flat shell , feeding its small but ferocious mouth with insects and food collected by its two large front pincers . The mudcrab snapped one of its pink claws at Scuttler , sending it racing back to Footfalls - in - Snow . Young Salty sidestepped forwards to face its rival , causing the pink fellow to snap its unforgiving claws at once , scraping the shell of the Argonian ' s own six - legged friend . A small cloud of dirt , and Young Salty was gone , burrowing under the shallow mud bank , only to appear behind the red mudcrab and thrust both mandibles forward . Young Salty edged forward , then fled back to Footfalls - in - Snow as a large spear was rammed through the red mudcrab ' s shell , skewering it completely . " That was a species protected by the Altmer of Alinor ! " the Argonian spluttered indignantly . Namasur grabbed his weapon , lifting it up to inspect the twitching mudcrab mass at the end of it . " I don ' t see any High Elves unfurling their banners and readying to attack us , do you ? " he said , scraping the corpse off his spear , and into a boiling pot . " I was unwilling to watch such a feeble battle continue . Don ' t fret , Argonian ; Young Salty isn ' t on the spit . Let us eat ; I hear this meat is exceedingly sweet . " A camp was made , further mudcrabs were gathered , and we gorged on the juiciest flesh since Skyrim rabbit . Despite further assurances that his pet was a northern mudcrab and too tough to put in a pot , Footfalls - in - Snow refrained from the feast , opting to sit stroking Young Salty , and nibble on a sweetroll . NEREID . At the edge of Greenshade , the brook we had been following ( to aid in our geography as well as our tracking ) , which was sometimes merely mossy ground rather than a stream , finally meandered to a tiny tributary . We sank to our buttocks and made shallow our breathing . I crept forwards to a clearing , where the rush of more rapid water could be heard . Over this tranquility we heard a song . The sweet , transfixing song of the nereid . I found a suitable obstacle , and beckoned forth the more trusted members of our party . And there she was , a vision of blue and turquoise , shimmering in the dappled morning light , frolicsome in the clear waters , preoccupied with preening . Almost Elvish in features , deep blue eyes and full lips , primitive swirls on her exposed shoulders , arms , and legs ( Tattoos ? Mottled skin ? It was difficult to tell . ) . A variety of shells , seaweed , and small animals nestling in her bonnet , aquatic jewelry hanging from ears and breasts . And a shawl of cloth … no , water ! It was vexing to determine where the water she played with began and her form ended . I turned to Namasur , and muttered in venerated tones : " We are lucky to see one alone , and away from her matriarch . Have your wits and blades about you ; this creature may either fly into a rage or tolerate our presence . But be wary ; she can drown you even while you stand on dry land . " Roggvir sidled up to our hiding tree : " I heard these are vengeful spirits , sewn from the bodies of women murdered and cast into rivers , " he offered . Ingjard stifled a chortle , and turned to him : " A difficult tale to believe , Roggvir . But then , you still paint your cows and offer them to giants , don ' t you ? " Roggvir laughed back , but I saw his face redden and his mirth soon disperse . " True beauty , " Namasur spoke now . " We know them as water sprites . You call them nereid s , yes ? " Namasur whispered as we stared across the edge of the embankment , towards a lagoon of the purest water , many small waterfalls trickling into a stream , and a further cascade into the burbling brook beneath the floating wispiness of the nereid ' s feet . It seemed almost a crime to slay this water Nymph . I am at pains to describe this combat in savage detail . We were here to acquire bathing water for Kishra - do ' s master , and to test our prowess . But the nereid offered us no anger . Indeed , our uncouth tracker Roggvir began hostilities with a throwing axe , severing both the nereid ' s arm and her song , and starting her formidable display of conjuring . Removing the axe and clutching her wound until the gouge had sealed up , she floated back , snarling , fragments of frost in her palms . Bolts of ice flew out , one striking Namasur on the chest plate . Roggvir was quickly to his feet , stepping in front of the Redguard to prevent further damage . They both looked puzzled as a swift wind whipped up around Namasur ' s feet , swiftly becoming a fierce and dangerous whirlwind , controlled by nereid hands . Roggvir somersaulted forward , bringing himself closer to the water ' s edge . He promptly suffered a deluge , not from a wade through the pool , but after staring at his feet . " My boots are wet … " he began to speak , a small puddle forming on the moss underfoot . Not another step forward was taken before a great spouting column of water roared up from below : an erupting geyser trapping him in a prison . The prediction of a drowning was in danger of becoming true . It fell to the Khajiit ( who felt no empathy at all ) to lunge with both daggers poised stabbing forcefully as she leapt upon the nereid , and both disappeared under the water . After much thrashing , Kishra - do waded out , shaking herself dry , leaving a floating blue corpse in her wake , as the lagoon water turned deep red with nereid blood . SPRIGGAN . The oldest forest of this realm is the dense Grahtwood , where daylight finds it hard to reach the mossy ground , and the massive buttress roots of mighty oaks serve as their own tiny hamlets for a variety of plants and animals . Our wander led us to a woodland grove , a waterfall cascading over ferns , and a wet haze of moisture pervading the gloom . Rooted to the middle , swaying ever so slightly , was the spriggan we had tracked . A twisted trunk , the glowing interior partly visible through smooth and intentional openings . The insides of the torso seemed to be the texture of moss . This central stem wasn ' t cracked or brittle , but rather supple , like a sapling bending to the first winds of autumn . A comely torso ( are those breasts ? ) , and a feminine nimbleness to the spriggan ' s movements . A wooden head , with a crown of branches , and molten fire dancing out from within . The graceful movements of the spriggan would have been entrancing , were it not for the screaming , wild eyes burning umber from within , and the increasingly brisk whirlwind of leaves spinning about this forest creature . " Wolves ! " Roggvir pointed both swords in opposing directions as we split up to deal with additional encroachments ; two gray wolves with the same orange - eyed stares as their mistress were weaving through the trees on opposite sides of the clearing . Ingjard lit an oil - soaked arrow , as any chance at diplomacy had passed . The spriggan quickly pointed at the flame , and a swirl of swarming magic bolted forth , snuffing out the fire and knocking Ingjard off her feet . Next she turned her attention to the Argonian for a brief moment , and flashed her eyes at the lizard . " Impure tail lifter ! " While the majority of us were tracking our four - legged and trunk - legged prey in prelude to combat , Footfalls - in - Snow ' s fight had already begun , violence erupting from surprising quarters . " Square - tooth milk sucker ! " The Argonian continued his seething , gesticulating wildly as his scaly familiar refused to release its clamped jaws from his arm . The same orange glow emanated from Scuttler ' s blank eyes : another animal in the service of the spriggan . In the end , Footfalls - in - Snow had no other option than to plunge a dagger into the back of Scuttler ' s neck ; it released its grips and fell to the forest floor , quite dead . The grove was alive with possessed beasts : two wolves circling and the spriggan scooting forward through the air , twirling gracefully before the talons were revealed , attempting to lacerate Namasur ' s neck . He edged away , and began a murmuring incantation , his hands suddenly exploding in fire : This was the first occasion that Namasur displayed a previously hidden talent for magic . Then it was released , an explosion of smoke and bark as the spriggan went up in flames . An impressive hit , until she faded from our view with a cackle , hiding in a translucent shadow with a swarm of magical essence flitting about her . Soon she burst forth , no evidence of burn marks on her form , and began a furious mauling in Namasur ' s direction . Namasur ' s scimitar parried , his blade work faster than the quickest spriggan strike . This afforded Ingjard the time to release a barrage of burning arrows ; each flew true and struck the spriggan , despite the Redguard ' s proximity . A great wail erupted from the smoldering Nymph , and we advanced with axes to hack and dismember , while Roggvir kept the wolves at bay . As the spriggan ' s husk , no blackened and without the glow of life , fell to the grass at our feet , her summoned creatures returned to the woods , now uninterested in a one - sided fight not in their favor . A glum - faced Argonian buried his pet below a graht - oak , while Roggvir protested he was wasting good meat for the spit . WINGED TWILIGHT . " The dusk ' s howl of a Winged Twilight . Listen ! " Roggvir motioned for silence , Kishra - do pricked up her ears , and we stopped in our tracks , straining to hear . He was right ; as Masser and Secunda rose above the silhouettes of the Grahtwood elder trees , we distinctly heard a shriek over the woodland waterfall , and the faint hum of the torchbugs in the small clearing we were creeping through . Then the sound of a branch cracking above us ; we gazed up and glimpsed movement in the still air : a large shadow leaped from the canopy and briefly blotted out Secunda ' s light . Pale blue eyes shone through the dark leaves . Something had been stalking us since we crossed from Malabal Tor . Roggvir ' s guess was correct . A creature of female form , the Winged Twilight had previously been described as a messenger sent by Azura . But this Daedra was a servitor of Molag Bal , carrying his cursed color and blank , blue - eyed stare . Myth held that Molag Grunda , the daughter of Molag Bal , was spawned as a Winged Twilight , but whatever those that dwell with the Daedra have revealed , one was biding its time before it struck . Ingjard mistook this as fear , but Roggvir explained our stalker was cautious due to cunning and the quickness of its strikes ; it was waiting for an opportunity . A feathered crest , now dappled with darker hues that ran along her shoulders and down her thighs , a scaled chest and breastplate , a savage woman ' s face , hair scraped back into a topknot . A tail as long as her entire body , with a vicious barbed end , and massive hooked feet used to tear flesh apart and grip branches , rocks , and other vantage points . A thick membrane stretched over huge wings , each ending in a long and extremely sharp hook ( our Argonian apothecary spoke of these as an ingredient to concoct a potent poison ) . A more winsomely shaped harpy was staring intently down on us from her high perch atop a graht - oak . The stare turned to a menacing glint , and the perch a screaming plummet , as the Winged Twilight dived straight down to meet Ingjard , causing her to stiffly raise her shield and stand her ground . The shriek was deafening to all , but particularly to Ingjard , who seemed uncharacteristically stunned and confused . Roggvir stepped forward and swung an axe wildly : it whistled under the screeching menace , which swung back with its barbed tail and caught Roggvir across the face . The Nords were fighting as if we ' d been downing mead for an hour ( which was true ) , so it fell to Kishra - do to add some of her graceful carnage to the proceedings . Out flashed a tiny blade , almost as small as an arrow . Then another , both cutting the flesh of the foe between the ribs , a deviously painful strike and a difficult wound to keep from weeping . But the Khajiit wasn ' t finished ; like a senche - tiger after a rock warbler , she bounded up the thick bark of a nearby tree and leapt for the flying terror . " Wits to Hircine ! " I heard her yell as she caught the Winged Twilight and latched onto her back like a tick , both of them tumbling down to a heavy landing on the forest floor . Kishra - do was first up , a dervish of daggers , slicing with a ferocity almost too frenzied to follow . She absorbed a vicious kick from the beast ’ s talons , which left a scar along one arm , but this was a timid retaliation in the face of a murderous Khajiit . Perhaps Molag Bal would think twice before sending a bird to stalk a cat . HOARVOR . Namasur ' s taste for mead was welcomed , and his consumption already legendary ; Roggvir joked his blood could poison a vampire . The Redguard ' s innate grace now featured more lurching movements , but he was still agile enough to find his sleeping quarters : on his side under the welcoming branches of an oak tree , near a patch of underbrush . While Ingjard painted , I retired for the evening , drifting to sleep with the crackling of the fire and the sounds of insects and hooting owls echoing through the forest . This tranquility was soon replaced by confused shouting and the clattering of metal . Ingjard recalled the story ( both through conversation and artistry ) : She heard Namasur murmuring , something indistinguishable , and probably mead induced . Then she heard a cry : " Dogs and sons of dogs ! " I asked what manners of dogs we were assaulted by , and Ingjard laughed : " No , Namasur ws visited during the night and pinned by a hoarvor . " She explained the Redguard ' s shouts occurred after he experienced a stabbing pain in his side . Namasur joined us , gingerly rolling up his shirt to show off a large puncture wound below his ribs , now rapidly healing thanks to Argonian ointment . He continued the tale , stating sheepishly that he initially believed Ingjard had become besotted with his charms , and moved to lay with him . " But this was a mirage in my mind , thanks to your alcohol , " he smiled , then winced and lightly dabbed his wound with a cloth . " Next , I thought I ' d been stabbed , but the pain was different : it felt like fire and extended across my ribs . I struggled , though the night terrors gripped me , as I was unable to move . My vision cleared , and I was peering into the dribbling mouth of a huge insect , as big as a guar . " The mouth had latched on , gouged on his side , and its sharp , spiked legs had pinned him to the soil . " Then I was covered in my own blood ! " I made a feeble jest about him really being a Redguard now ( which he took good naturedly ) , before explaining how the hoarvor had spewed forth a mixture of bile and Namasur ' s own fluids , further adding to his discomfort . " In the end , Tu ' whacca watched over us . And I suppose Ingjard did join me in my bed . But she carried a spear , pried off that immense tick , and we watched it stagger and stumble about the camp , poisoned by the mead I drank earlier . " Namasur stood up , slowly . " That insect ' s feast was helpful in one way , though : it seemed to suck the usual head pain I have after waking from a drunken stupor . Just this war wound tickles me now . " The hoarvor was duly skewered and its shell scraped clean . We promised not to recall this story if we ever returned to Hammerfell . STRANGLER . A patch of dappled light , half a day into the forests of Malabal Tor , was a novelty , so thick was the canopy of trees . Footfalls - in - Snow began writing Argonian poetry about it , although his quill scratched parchment in Jel , so he saved us from listening to it . But this shaft of light illuminated something grotesquely interesting . A plant , exhibiting more animalistic ( and certainly parasitical ) tendencies than many actual animals we had encountered : the carnivorous epiphyte known as the strangler , rarely found outside of the deepest recesses of Valenwood . This particular specimen was impressive : as large as an Elf , and wider than an ogre . A bulging central stamen offered a quivering and deep red beauty , surrounded by feather - like leaves and strange branches , more arm - like than other plant life , and ending in a barbed spine that looked strong enough to pierce through the entire head of the unwary . This strangler ' s girth was due to the richness of its nutrients ; it was growing from the decomposing corpse of a Bosmer adventurer , the roots smothering the rotting face and putrefying limbs gathered in a loose heap at the base of the main stem . The Argonian edged forward , entranced by plant ' s sweet and sticky excretions . Roots and vines shot out to greet Footfalls - in - Snow , beginning to hug him . Puncturing through his scales , the plant throbbed in anticipation of suckling the Argonian , who broke from his daze as the thorns entered his skin . As he struggled with a dagger to cut himself free , further branches began to wrap around him , grappling and drawing him closer . The lizard was close to passing out now , and the strangler ' s roots started to ooze an odd purple liquid . Deciding the Argonian had perhaps helped demonstrate enough of the plant ' s ferocity , Roggvir and Kishra - do quickly stepped in , and began to hack the snaking appendages apart , starting with the one tightening around the Argonian ' s neck . The strangler struck again . A spike spat out from the strangler ' s vertical smile , embedding itself into Roggvir ' s arm . Shrugging it off , he fought off the branches , now thrashing randomly at him and the Khajiit . He was almost free , but the fluid at the plant ' s roots suddenly exploded upward in a shower of dark red rain . Choking on the poison , all three dropped down , and the strangler began to shuffle forwards , its roots actually emerging from the Wood Elf host and quickly tightening around Roggvir ' s ankle . I shook my head : " Ingjard ! Namasur ! I ' ll be forced to write about how a single strangler impaired our entire expedition , unless you can salvage our pride ! " A Redguard scimitar swiftly cut through the main trunk , severing the strangler in two . Ingjard brought her axe , and demolished the lashing vines with a focused fury . As we unbound Footfalls - in - Snow , I tossed him some gloves and asked him if he was up to the task of siphoning off some stranglesap , while Roggvir took a shovel and buried the Bosmer in proper accordance with local customs . The incompetency was , I hoped , a mere fleshbug nip on the otherwise alabaster skin of Mara . BONE COLOSSUS . Perhaps only the Argonian wasn ' t becoming a little irked at the continuous exploration of Malabal Tor . The going had slowed due to the floor on which we walked : sometimes soggy , occasionally root filled , and intermittently plagued with briar thickets to slice our way through . And the trees ! I ' m no despoiler , but these Wood Elves don ' t fell anything with a trunk and branches ! I should also have brought a second quill and parchment , and written a book solely on the number of nature metaphors the Argonian uttered when stroking yet another species of sapling or gathering a seedling . So we were fortunate when Roggvir chanced upon and old Bosmer poacher ' s path , leading to more forgiving hiking conditions . However , the trail led to a glade dominated by a strange structure , filled with Wood Elf carvings in three great stone blocks propping up a moss - covered roof : below was a circle of paved stone , upon which sat a plinth of burning animal fat . Namasur immediately signaled for us to depart into the trees surrounding the wayshrine : Something wasn ' t right here . I squinted through old eyes , scanning the stone for the source of the Redguard ' s worry . Venturing out , I saw the runes , strange , glowing sigils scoured into the stone with malice aforethought , and none of the primitive majesty of a Bosmer . This defacement was the work of a necromancer . Or worse . How much worse became immediately apparent when two towers of living bone rose from their slumber circles . Just one of these bone colossi was enough to raze the hamlet of Kynesgrove during the recent troubles . But unseen magicians allied with Daedric Princes had conspired to greet us with two of these heavy - footed skeletal warriors . Kishra - do seemed fascinated as the two giant constructs slowly ascended to their full height ( three Nords tall ) . I quickly explained these were creations fused with the bones ( and sometimes entire frames ) of the fallen . Parched skulls , ribs , and other bones were combined to form broad shoulders , hardened armor , and a head containing enough malice to stoke the fire of a dim but functional intelligence , unique among the undead . Both foes ignored our rain of arrows , stretched out their arms , and ( almost in unison ) executed a fearsome roar ( all the more fearful , as both entities lacked vocal cords ) . A moment passed before the ground began to undulate , and further bony forms rose up : minion skeletons summoned to pester our party . Our adversaries now numbered eight , and we knew our only advantage lay in our enemies ' unthinking remorselessness . Combat instructions were yelled ; the Khajiit was to join our main attack after removing the six lesser threats , a task she relished . Roggvir led the charge to the first bone colossus , two swords cutting at its heel . No tendons were there to hobble this bone giant , but it still slowed , turning to fling a long arm out at the Redguard , from which Namasur tumbled away without delay . Leaping up the wayshrine like a Khajiit , he launched from the roof , grabbing the wide shoulders of the colossus and twisting off its head . The bewildered behemoth wandered into the woods before Argonian arrows finally brought it down . Roggvir wasn ' t faring as well ; he stumbled as he navigated the wayshrine ' s steps and fell on his back , rolling away just as his immense adversary plunged its fist down into the soft earth , up to the wrist . This was no graveyard , but suddenly the ground erupted as shards of bone , many with viciously sharp points , flew out from the impact , some catching Roggvir about the beard and forearm . Assistance was needed , and it took the form of Ingjard , wielding a pair of her favorite axes , which cut the colossus into an armless wanderer , before she dropped it at the knees , and the torso fell forward , back into the earth . Kishra - do suddenly backed away from her fierce combat with the risen dead ( previously , she had decided to dispatch each only by decapitation , which meant I occasionally had to step out of the way of a flying skull ) . Ingjard ' s fortitude had snapped the magical bonds , and the last two skeletons could no longer be sustained , exploding in more bone fragments . We were picking them out of our skin and hair throughout the following evening . DARK SEDUCER . We witnessed Roggvir ' s mistake from some distance , close enough to the hilltop to watch , but too far across the charred forest floor to intervene before it was too late . The great fires of Reaper ' s March made our tracking dangerous and our breathing difficult ; jagged and blackened wounds of deforestation continued to open up before us and send our Argonian tree friend into a seething rage . Perhaps he should have scouted ahead instead , as he might have resisted the charms of the Dark Seducer , viewing it through the eyes of ire instead of infatuation . We had journeyed far across this treacherous landscape after hearing rumors of a legendary lich to slay . Roggvir was circling back from a survey of the burn , when he chanced upon a lone figure . As he closed in , he saw a cloaked woman of some considerable delicacy , sitting on a tree stump , tears streaming down her pallid skin , forlorn at the cruelty of the Colovian s . A displaced Bosmeri villager ? No , she had the look of a Nord maiden under that cowl , or so Roggvir remembers . What happened next is unclear ; Roggvir recalls waking up with a bleeding head and two missing teeth . The rest of us saw little of the woman ’ s transformation into her true form , as the billowing smoke obscured the ruse . As the air cleared , Roggvir had fallen , slumped forward , chin on the tree stump , blood trickling from his brow . Ingjard feared the worst , and rightly so ; this was no forlorn fawn lost in the wilderness . Powerful magic had transformed her being , which had now flickered back to a Daedra vision Namasur immediately recognized . " Dark Seducer ! " came the cry . A true form revealed : a female fiend clad in armor of the deepest blue and ebony , shining in the moons ' light . We would have stood and commended the workmanship on the boots , gauntlets , and helm , but we had scattered , sprinting forth to save Roggvir ' s neck , as the Daedra raised the axe of an executioner . She brought it down quickly , but Ingjard ' s arrows were faster , piercing her arm in midswing . The axe cut through the edge of the stump , narrowly missing Roggvir ' s ear . The weapon remained stuck in place , glowing purple residue streaming from it . Wings unfurled , with both hands conjuring fire , the Dark Seducer took to the skies , where it laughed at the Argonian ' s arrows for a few moments , until Ingjard ' s accuracy finally caught the flying foe in the neck . This brought the Daedra down and caused her conniptions ; she was brought to the boiling point with another unanswered arrow . A massive blast of fire shot forth from both hands , aimed at Ingjard but striking wide of the mark , and another oak went up in flames . On the promontory now , Namasur launched his trusty spear with almost magical accuracy , skewering the beast just below the ribs . She responded with four rapid bolts of ice , one striking Namasur in the head and knocking him towards a steep , smoldering slope . Another weapon of misty purple was unbuckled , as she swooped in towards me . I held firm , gripped my axe , forced my shield to absorb her screeching sword swing , and caught her with a viciously accurate gouge across her belly . Entrails spilled as she tumbled into the ash , mangled and seething . I strode over and removed Namasur ' s spear , still wedged in her , and stabbed down into the neck until a soggy crack was heard , indicating her audience with Molag Bal was granted . " Try to resist the charms of wanton women , " Ingjard said with a grin , helping Roggvir up and wrapping his head wound , " especially ones with wings and of a Daedra disposition . " LICH . Namasur had been studying the map fragments , and swore to the three great Ansei that Mannimarco ' s underling was here , prowling the floors of ash along the edge of Reaper ' s March , where the corruption of magic was at its strongest . Vingalmo the Wight ( as the Redguard called the lich ) was apparently responsible for numerous atrocities across the desert crypts of Namasur ' s forebears . As he tells it , the story goes that Vingalmo was sent to Hammerfell to gather more bones for an army of the undead . Slipping silently into the numerous necropolises , this filthy lich terrorized the people of the Alik ' r Desert by summoning their own ancestors to gather along the walls of Bergama , in readiness for war . Namasur ' s nomads were embroiled in this after his family ' s tomb was raided , and Vingalmo resurrected Namasur ' s own great - uncle . The Redguard ' s voice trembled in anger as he recalled the time he slew his own ancestor , each armed with the same family scimitar . While consecrating his ancestor ' s sarcophagus again , he vowed to hunt the lich down . " Vingalmo used to be an Elf , so he returns to the polluted and tormented regions bordering his own land to gather more minions . " Namasur spoke with the qualification of an expert on such manners , and I had no reason to doubt him . Days later ( and once Roggvir ' s head wounds had healed ) , Namasur ' s tracking yielded results . We found the lich despoiling a Colovian camp , in a river valley by the broken mountains to the south , where the smoke of a thousand burned trees still hung in the skies . The Argonian sought cold comfort from the fact that the Imperial zealots seemed to have been caught and suffocated by their own fires . I peered out from behind a rock with Namasur , and we watched as the lich hovered over the razed tents , picking through the ash for dead bodies . This was a floating corpse of considerable power , driven mad by the promise of immortality . It had no need to disguise its appearance ( as many lich are wont to do ) , so we viewed the horror in its full and tattered splendor . More bone than skin , gray flesh wrapped tightly around thin fingers and a glowing skull . A faded yet resplendent crown of magic , tarnished armor of gold and amethyst , robes that were once woven of the very finest linen , but now worn to the point of being held together by magic . Both the lich ' s hands were occupied ; one carried a staff of gold and leather , while the green flames of necromancy flickered in the other . Two focusing torches floated either side of the lich ' s shoulders , attached by rusting chains and ready to augment any magic it cast . Most horrifying was the fear it exuded from within : A thick agglomeration of fumes , glowing a bilious green , writhing inside a rotting shell . I would lie weeping before Tsun and Stuhn before wishing this fate for myself . Namasur would not face this madness alone . I beckoned Ingjard and Roggvir down from the crags , and we were discussing tactics when Footfalls - in - Snow turned into Tumbles - in - Ash , falling down a slope of scree with the grace of an Orc , and ruining our element of surprise . There was no time for looks of disgust ; the Argonian was already fending off bolts of magic . Ingjard leapt up and charged — a brave but foolhardy strategy , as the lich formed a necrotic spear from its hands , threw it savagely , and struck Ingjard in the shoulder , halting her run . Roggvir ran to her aid , and the lich hissed something at the two of them , bathing their ground in a foul - smelling ichor . Their movement impeded , both Nords flailed as if caught in a mire . Then the soil erupted , skeletal hands and bones striking up from the earth , threatening to drag both Ingjard and Roggvir into suffocation . Namasur thanked us for our distraction after the fight , as he dashed up to the lich , opened a sack , and dropped its contents on the ash . " I found your son , Vingalmo ! " the Redguard yelled , as the dismembered head of an Altmer fell out ( we had wondered what the smell around camp was , and had been blaming the Khajiit for it ) . The lich ' s soul peered down through its green - glowing skull , and let out a shriek , some semblance of memory sparked . Namasur kicked the head across the camp , and with a strike faster than a blink , had both scimitars out , and the lich ' s bony neck caught between them . Namasur ' s own throat was grabbed by bony hands , turquoise fire enveloping them both . Then a mighty explosion , and I had to avert my eyes . When I peered back again , Namasur seemed unharmed , though coated in a rage of red fire . He was holding the skull of Vingalmo the Wight , having wrenched it off the ragged corpse . He spoke softly as the red fire slowly faded : " Ayh - al - Fifrah at - Hamisam , be at peace . "