Then it happened…
Mudcrabs started piling out of the stream. Big ones, small ones,funny looking ones glowing green. I knew the peace was too good to last. That green glow meant Spriggans
I didn’t know anything about my companion’s fighting abilities,so I darted to her side. She raised her walking stick and a bright red light flew from the head and hit a Spriggan square in the chest. The spriggan transformed into a chicken. Could it be? She had been given the Wabbajack! A Deadric artifact right before my eyes. We were punching Mudcrabs and blasting Spriggans like the heroes of old. BAM! POW! ZING! SNAP!CRACKLE!POP! She was actually yelling snap, crackle,pop. So I started yelling that too in a show of solidarity and respect for her otherworldly fighting style. It was messy, and undisciplined You could tell she’d been in a tavern brawl or two.
We were doing great till a blast from Wabbajack turned a Spriggan into a Werewolf. “S_!+, F*(!, B@!!$. She yelled with half panic and half fury. I had never heard language like that come out of someone’s mouth. I didn’t know what it meant but I knew it wasn’t language you would use in front of your mother. The Werewolf even seemed embarrassed for a second before it attacked.
She blocked the shredding claws with her staff. I lunged in from the side with a sword. I bashed my shield to draw its attention. She managed to strike it in the back with another blast from Wabbajack,which lit her up with lightening. She was knocked down and her boots were smoking. After a good three minutes she sat bolt upright still crackleing from the strike. She ambled to one knee with help from the staff. “Not cool man, not cool ” she gasped in a feeble tone. NOT COOL! She was reminding me Spriggans were weak to fire despite the transformation. She must have seen some heavy action on the battlefields of her home land to keep an even keel in the thick of a fight. I let my flame spell loose. She had made it back to her feet,but gawked like she had never seen such a thing. She shook her head wildly, slowed her breathing “Nothing here can hurt you, your in control.Oooohm.” She cast Oakflesh and seemed a bit surprised. The beast was still advancing my way. BLOCK, STRIKE, BLOCK. She drew twin daggers from her belt. STAB,STAB right in the shoulder blades.
She yelled “Watch your six!” I had no idea what she was talking about. Another Mudcrab latched on to my tail. With a deep breath and calm mind she backed up and used the Wabbajack again. This did nothing, back to the daggers. The Werewolf changed back to a Spriggan. It was healing. I took the opportunity to do the same. It turned on the Breton she had her daggers at the ready clicked them together. WHOosh,they were on fire. STAB, STAB now it was starting to hurt but so was she. I used healing hands to patch her up a bit. THRUST, BASH. Down it goes. We used the adrenaline of the fight to punch every last Mudcrab in sight. There must have been twenty of them. This was my first battle with a Spriggan. She kept setting those blades aflame with a bottle of Jose cuervo. Muttering about a good waste of booze. We took the fight to those Spriggans and their army of Mudcrabs. Ranger woke up when the last of them was slain. The Breton collapsed on her bed roll. I used more healing. My restoration skill grew at least twice that day. As the sun sank she quietly whispered “Jose Cuervo is not my friend.” And drifted off. I took the bottle and smelled the liquid. “ARKAY GUIDE ME!” How could a human drink that and survive?The stuff smelled like Chaurus piss. Which is just as poisonous as the venom they spew. Do I dare? I thought to myself. Ranger went and curled up beside her. I decided once and for all she was a good soul if a normally fierce hunting hound takes such a shine to her.
I looked at the bottle again. “Sod it.” I said aloud. I took a mighty swig. My eyes watered, my throat burned, I felt my heart stop in my chest. I was making an uncontrollable, hissing and gurgling noise. My stomach felt like someone cast fireball from the inside. The Breton looked at me for a brief moment through sleepy eyes and murmured ” That a boy, down the hatch.” Giving me a thumbs up,which I assumed mean keep going,before lying her head back down.
The warm friendly feeling of getting a good buzz on washed over me. “Mmmmm,not bad.”
I will tell the next part of the tale another day. Eola has come to close to catching Braith. She’s about to let a flame atronach loose on the Streets of Whiterun. Lydia! Get out of the doorway!