Kavel Book 1 - Bloodmoon Born - Prologue P1

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Kavel Book 1 - Bloodmoon Born - Prologue Part 1

From the Annuals of Kavel Bloodmoon as told by WolfGrimDark

This is the opening chapter and prologue for book one of Bloodmoon Born, the story of Kavel Bloodmoon. For more great stories on Nexus check out the Nexus Writers List.

Some mood music I heartily recommend listening to - Mind Heist by Zack Hemsey

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Kolfinna struggled to keep her footing as she wiped a dirty hand over eyes blurry from smoke and grief. It had all happened so fast she still couldn’t believe it. One moment she had been enjoying an early dinner with her husband and the next the village was a storm of angry steel and cries of combat. From out of nowhere a mob of deadly were-hunters had descended upon her village. Only her husband’s quick thinking had saved them

Where had they all come from? How did they get so close undetected? And the most frustrating question, why her village? These questions hounded her thoughts as she and her brother snuck through the thick foliage that surrounded the back entrance to the village. She paused for a moment and looked back, checking to see if they had been followed. All she saw were the plumes of smoke in the distance that were all that remained of her home.

“Come on Kolfinna, we must hurry!” Bron urged her as his eyes scanned frantically all around, looking for any sign of hunters that might be lurking behind the trees.



She went to reply but suddenly she felt a gut wrenching pain that tore at her soul. She fell to her knees with a gasp and cried, “No! Korst!”

Tears filled her eyes as she felt the death of her husband through their life-bond. With a painful jerk her vision was pulled into the spirit world as her husband’s soul violently fled its mortal coil.



In the distance she saw his spirit hovering over his body. He turned to face her, his eyes filled with a fierce love.

“Kolfinnaaaa.” His voice echoed in her mind. “We shall meet again in the hunting grounds my love. Till then be strong. Save our son, our hope, our future. ”

Her emotions running wild she can only nod as he begins to fade away. Then, as if hearing something, he turns his head to look at the village. Abruptly his ghostly form whips around and flies straight towards her, his eyes filled with fear; not for himself but for her. “Run Kolfinna! Run! ”

“Run, we must run!” Bron shouted, panic in his voice as he tugged at his sisters arm.

Kolfinna nodded and pulled herself together. She let Bron lead her away through the woods. He took her in a south westerly direction, wading through brooks and streams whenever they could in the hopes of hiding their trail. They traveled for hours, nerves strained and taunt from the stress of trying to remain undetected.



Exhausted, her child complaining with frequent kicking, she slipped and barely caught herself in time. As her body struggled to breath her grief overwhelmed her. Unable to continue she sank to her knees and buried her head her hands. Her rich brown hair fell around her face and chest as she sobbed silently.

Bron looked back and groaned. His sister was the strong one, the eldest. He didn’t know what to do other than the fact that staying still was not an option. Bending down he whispered her name. When she didn’t respond he grabbed her hands and pulled them away from her face. She gave him a vacant look, lost in her despair.

Taking a breath Bron steeled himself and then slapped her hard across the face. Her eyes opened wide in shock and she grabbed his hand before he could hit her again.

Kolfinna shook her head and hissed, “You dare strike a shaman of the Berhamask?”

Bron glared at her, “I dare if it wakes you from your self-pity and gets you moving!”

Kolfinna closed her eyes, she knew he was right but she had no strength. “Just a moments rest. Surely no one has tracked us this far.”

“Is this the fabled endurance of the Berhamask tribe? Are you our shaman or are you a whimpering little child, weaker than even an outsider?” Bron taunted, hating himself for it but desperate to get her moving.

For a moment they locked stares and then she shook him off and got up. She began walking as quickly as she could as Bron took the lead again, relenting just a little to match his pace with hers.

Under normal circumstances Bron might have smiled at finally winning a battle of wills with his sister. But right now he was too weary and desolate to even contemplate his victory. He too had lost friends and family, and mourned their death at the hands of the outsiders, but now was not the time for grieving. They would pay, he swore, but right now saving his sister and her child was all that mattered.



As they continued their escape through the forest a gentle snow began to fall. Bron smiled grimly at the change in weather seeing it as a blessing instead of a hindrance. The cold wouldn’t bother them in the least and with any luck the snow would accumulate enough to hide their passage.

He paused for a moment to get his bearings. Kolfinna took the opportunity to catch her breath and mumble a soothing charm over her stomach. In a moment she could sense the unborn child’s distress easing and she gave a sigh of relief.



Looking around Bron realized they were almost to an old abandoned hunting lodge he had discovered last year. He recalled stumbling across it one night while following the scent of a female in heat. A short smiled played across his face as he recalled surprising the young female hiding inside. She introduced herself as Selene and explained she had been using the place to hide from an overly aggressive male she feared might rape her.

Yet she apparently had no such fear of Bron for she took him that same night and made of him a man. It mattered little to them that she was of the Frostmoon clan and he the Berhamask tribe. Still they had to keep their friendship a secret for their two tribes were constantly feuding with each other.

“Hmm…” Bron muttered, causing Kolfinna to look at him. He had a sudden idea but was not sure if Kolfinna would go for it. Perhaps after they were in a safer place he would bring it up.

Turning back to Kolfinna he explained, “Oh just an idea. Just down the hill is an old lodge left over by the Imperials. I think we should be safe there for a few hours. With some food and rest perhaps we can then come up with better plan on what to do next.”

Kolfinna could only nod, too tired to argue or ask questions. She had been so busy trying to escape she hadn’t even considered the full ramifications of the attack. What would they do now, she thought bitterly. Her tribe had been her entire life, she knew no other way of existing. She followed behind Bron blindly, holding his hand as if a child, as he led them to the entrance.



Bron half-carried half-pulled his spent sister into the lodge and made her comfortable in the main room. While Bron prepared a cold meal Kolfinna sat against the wall, her hands on her extended belly as she stared at her unborn child. Tears ran down her face as she thought back to Korst and their final words before fleeing the village.

”I will not run and hide while my people die!” Kolfinna had yelled over the sounds of combat as Korst and Bron urged her to flee while they still had a chance.

“Hircine has forsaken us Kolfinna! Why else do our gifts fail us when we need them most? Our end is near but there is still hope if you escape. Within your womb is a chance for our clan to survive. Bear our child and teach him our lore so that he might continue our legacy.” Korst said, his voice heavy with sorrow.

“Then come with us, the boy will need a father. And I … I need my husband.” Kolfinna pleaded, blinking back tears as her brother tugged on her arm.

Shouts of battle drew close, they had run out of time. Korst shook his head. He leaned in and gave the love of his life the most gentle of kisses yet fierce and full of longing at the same time. Then he turned and let out a roar as he charged the invaders and broke through their perimeter. Bron and Kolfinna dashed through the net of men that surrounded the village and into the forest. Before the enemy had a chance to figure out what had happened he was on them, his mighty two-handed axe a deadly blur. It had brought them the distraction and time needed to escape.

They had only been hand-fasted a year. They were going to make a family together. She would become their next High Shaman and Korst would become an Elder. Such a wonderful dream they had planned out together. And now it was all gone, destroyed in a matter of minutes.

She was taken out of her thoughts when her brother bent down and looked at her. With a gentle touch he moved a wisp of her hair out of her eyes. He opened and closed his mouth a few times. Finally he stuttered out, “I wish to … that is … I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be so rough with you back there, but I didn’t know what else to do.”

Kolfinna gave him a sad smile, “It is I who should apologize Bron. What type of shaman am I that I had to be reminded of my duty by my younger brother?”

The tense look on Bron’s face faded at her words and he slowly gave her a tentative smile back. Then, feeling slightly embarrassed, he pointed to a rather dented pot filled with snow he had set nearby. Almost shyly he asked, “Do you have the strength to summon the sacred flame? I dare not light a fire for fear it would give us away. But if you can make boiling water we can have some of your medicinal teas. I also have some dried fish, fruit, and nuts for our meal.”

Kolfinna nodded, hiding a grin at his superstitious attitude towards magic. A simple calling of the fire element was viewed as sacred magic to most of her tribe. A tribe that was no more she feared. She bit back a sob and instead focused on her task. A moment later the lodge was filled with the soothing sent of herbs and spices as she prepared the tea.

The tea helped clear their minds and ease some of their aches and pains while the food filled their guts with much needed energy and nourishment. When they had finished their small meal Kolfinna asked the question she had been dreading, “What are we to do Bron? We must assume the Hand will be looking for any survivors.”

Bron’s head jerked up at that, “Are you sure? That was the Hand? The Silver Hand? What were they doing on Solstheim?”

Kolfinna shrugged, “I recognized their markings; Korst had fought them once before and had kept one of their insignias as a trophy. You said earlier you had an idea, what is it?”

Bron sat down cross legged next to her and started to fiddle with a piece of straw. “I have a friend. I was thinking she might be able to convince her people to give us refuge.”

“Her people? And who might they be?” Kolfinna asked, curious as to who this female friend might be.

“Her name is Selene. She is … well she is from the Frostmoon Crag clan.”

“A werewolf? You want to seek refuge with the werewolf tribe?! You know how they hate the werebears for decimating their kind. The distinction that it is the rogue shifters, and not our tribe, that is doing the killing matters little to them.” Kolfinna said, her voice heated.

Bron nodded but asked her to hear him out. “I know our two tribes have been feuding since … well forever. But surely they will see the danger the Hand poses to all our kind. What use is the feud anyhow? Our tribe is dead.” He finished, his voice torn between anger and heartbreak.

“No, not completely dead.” Kolfinna whispered as she took Bron’s hand and rested it on her large belly. Her son kicked and Bron smiled. “My fear is that they might see this as a chance to end the feud once and for all; not with an alliance but with our deaths.”

“I have thought of that as well but I don’t know what else to do. Our only other hope is to head to Raven Rock and see if we can hide out there. I know a few of the merchants and hunters there. But my fear is that the Hand will also be there.” Bron suggested.

Kolfinna knew many local tribes traded with the Dunmer merchants and that one of the most sought after trades were guide services and rare plants. Last year Bron had started earning his keep by acting as a guide for one of the more influential merchants. It was certainly an idea although her natural prejudice towards outsiders made her very hesitant.

“Wise decisions are seldom made with weary minds, let’s sleep on it and decide when we get up.” She finally offered. Bron agreed. Bron laid down by the door while Kolfinna took the only bed. A moment later the two of them fell quickly asleep

…



Kolfinna stirred in her sleep and beads of sweat formed on her brow as she tossed and turned. Her dreaming eyes opened into a world turned black and white, devoid of color and life. She shouted for her brother but there was no answer. Her vision spun and suddenly she was running frantically through a snow covered forest. All around her ghostly shapes howled and pointed accusing fingers at her.

You abandoned us Kolfinna. You left us to die. Your sacred oaths to protect us … forsaken and broken.

“No!” She cried as guilt crashed over her like a tidal wave. She tried to run faster but they were all around her, circling like a school of sharks that smelled blood.

The scene shifted again. Now she stood in the center of her village. All that remained of their buildings and tents were burnt and empty husks. It was eerily quiet and nowhere could she see a sign of movement. She struggled to master her fear as she looked around.A part of her knew she was having a dream-vision. Her own guilt and fears creating the nightmare she saw before her. Control her fear and she could control the nightmare.

She thought she felt something watching her but when she turned she saw nothing. A feeling of dread crept over her and against her will she looked down at her belly. She felt a twisting in her stomach as she lost her baby. A skeletal child, covered in blood, feel from between her legs. Its over-sized skull turned to look at her accusingly.

Kolfinna gave a scream of horror and tried to run but she could not move. Blood began to pour from between her legs. It seeped into the ground and spread out in a circle. Everything in its path took on a ghastly red tint. She knew it represented all that had died that night. But what was it trying to tell her? She sank to her knees and moaned in anguish. Was this her future then? To lose her son? What did it mean?

Suddenly she felt a presence standing before her. She looked up and saw her husband, a gaping wound in his chest where a sword had disemboweled him. Fearing the worst she looked up at his face, expecting accusations and blame. Instead she found eyes filled with love … and warning. She heard a noise, like the whispering of the wind on a cold winter’s night. She strained her ears realizing he was trying to say something.

… must … being blocked … beware Herma … noooo!

Kolfinna reached out her hands as the figure of Korst wavered. She felt a great presence looming on the horizon, angry and searching. She tried to hold her husband’s hand but they had no substance. Yet the act itself seemed to strengthen him for he tried to speak once more.



… the Crimson Raven … he hunts you … must escape the island … flee to Skyrim … seek the … seek the Bloated Man’s Grotto … Hir…

Suddenly a roar filled the dream world and a thunderous force slammed into her and she knew no more.

…



Kolfinna woke with a start, her body covered in sweat. Her hand and eyes went immediately to her stomach. A sigh of relief echoed from her mouth as she felt her son alive and unharmed inside of her. She looked around and noticed Bron was missing, the lodge door partly opened. She had just finished packing up their few things when Bron came barreling into the lodge.

“Kolfinna they come! I don’t know how but they have tracked us. Three of them are coming up the hill. There is no time to run. Hide in the basement and I will try to convince them that I am alone.”

“No.” She said simply. She was tired of running, of crying, of being weak. If she was too die let it be in battle not hiding like a pathetic outsider in the fetid bowels of this hovel.

Bron saw the look in her eyes and knew he had no chance of changing her mind. So he merely nodded in agreement. “What should we do then?”

Kolfinna gathered her courage. She felt a twinge of guilt at having put so much responsibility on her brother earlier. He was only sixteen, barely a man, and yet she had made him take the lead and bear her responsibilities. As a shaman, even if only an apprentice one, that should have been her job.

“Can you take your holy form?” She asked, hiding her nervousness. It was dangerous for the young to transform under stress, it could break the mind and cause the beast to take over.

Bron gulped and then concentrated for a moment. “Yes, whatever was blocking us before is no longer.”

She turned as she heard shouts coming from just outside the door. “Then turn now and protect me. I will work what magic I can.”

They heard a battering against the door just as Bron began to change. He stripped his armor as fast as he could and sent it flying. He let out a roar of rage and pain as skin ripped and then mended.Huge bulges rippled under his skin as muscles grew and wrapped around his bones. He grew a good three feet taller as thick hair and sharp claws took shape.

The door shattered open and two of the Hand came charging in, trying to get to Bron before he finished transforming. They were too late. One of them pointed and yelled, “There, two of them, just like Dareathys said there would be! Get them!”

With a furious growl Bron swung out with a massive clawed arm and sent both men flying across the room to land dazed against the floor. One of them slowly stood, bringing his weapon to bear. The other gave a cry and lay still, his back twisted at a horrible angle.

Bron ignored them as he focused on the third man who stood crouched in the protection of the door frame. In his hand he held one of their infamous silver swords except this one was far more deadly. Bron had seen them in action back at the village. They were covered with runes that glowed an ugly green-black and smelled of corruption. He had watched as one of the tribes best fighters had been cut by such a blade. It had burned her skin with a corrosive poison and seemed to resist their natural regenerative powers.

Behind him Kolfinna kept her eye on the other soldier as he approached Bron from behind, trying to trap him. Her eyes narrowed as she understood that the man considered her little threat; she was just a pregnant and helpless female. It turned out to be a dangerous mistake on his part. Kolfinna studied the wooden boards beneath his feet and cast a plant calling. A second later thick vines burst from the wood and swarmed around the man’s legs.

He slashed at the vines with his sword and where they connected the vines shriveled and died. Kolfinna put all her focus into the spell and finally a vine caught the man’s sword arm. As he struggled to rip the vine off two more crawled up his back and wrapped themselves around his neck. A few minutes later he was dead, strangled by her vines.

Meanwhile the remaining Silver Hand was holding Bron at bay. Both of them were in a stalemate. The soldier dared not flee as getting into the open would give Bron the advantage. Yet Bron dared not press his attack with the man’s sword weaving a deadly defense in front of him.



The stand-off was broken when the man made to dive to the left. Bron, young and inexperienced, fell for the bait and was thrown off-balance as the man dodged and rolled to the left, cutting a gash in Bron’s arm as he came up behind him. Bron howled in pain as the poisoned blade bit deep. With a roar he swung around to face the man.

Kolfinna could see that Bron’s right arm was already growing limp, a sick green puss forming where the blade had cut the skin. Fueled by fear for her only remaining family she summoned as much power as she could and sent a blast of icy cold slamming towards Bron’s attacker. Sensing the oncoming blast the man tried to dodge out of the way but stumbled in the process. As he did Bron reached out with his other hand and grabbed the man’s head in a vice like grip. Claws of steel dug through the man’s helmet and sank deep into his skull. He was dead before he hit the floor, his skull crushed like an eggshell.

Bron let out a cry and his entire body shuddered in pain. He fell to the floor, changing back to his human form as he did, moaning from the poison eating at his flesh. Kolfinna rushed over to him and attempted a simple healing spell only to find it resisted. Desperate she called on her own life energy, knowing there would be a heavy price to pay later, and sought to neutralize the poison eating at his system. Just as she was losing consciousness she saw the corruption burn away leaving torn but clean flesh behind. Gasping she stopped the flow of her life into Bron and took a few deep breaths.

She had no energy to heal the wound nor would she for days, such was the price she must pay for what she had done. Instead she grabbed her medicine bag and began to grind herbs together to make a poultice. When she was done she cleaned the wound, applied the poultice, and wrapped it tightly in a cloth bandage.

She then pulled him close and held him tight against her side as she sent a quick prayer to Hircine to watch over them while they recovered.

…



Kolfinna turned to look at Bron, concern clear on her face. They hadn’t dared to rest for long after the attack knowing others might follow. Bron had weakly argued for his original plan but she had over-ruled him. It was too risky; even if they could trust them what if it brought their attackers to Frostmoon? Worse, what if Frostmoon had also been attacked? Neither of them had any idea what this was all about.

So she told him about her vision and thankfully he accepted it without any fuss. He may argue with her as a sister but he was somewhat in awe of her shaman abilities; dream-visions were said to be sent by Prince Hircine himself. Korst had thought that their Prince had abandoned them but Kolfinna was not so sure. In her vision he had said the name Herma. That was the name the Skaal called their ancient enemy, the Daedric Prince Hermaeus-Mora. If he was involved that would explain much.

They discussed options for getting into the city safely and to her surprise it was Bron that came up with the best plan. Bron had hired out a couple of times as a guide to merchants seeking plants and alchemy supplies unique to Solstheim. He suggested they seek one merchant in particular, Mistress Tivela, who he said was rather fond of him. When Kolfinna pressed him Bron finally admitted he had slept with her once, curious to know what a Dunmer female was like in bed. Once she would have been disgusted but all she could do now was shake her head in amazement; her brother was full of surprises it seemed.



The plan was to convince her to take them on as part of her staff so they could safely gain passage to the mainland. If she proved reluctant Bron was hoping that his arm torque, which was made of pure stalhrim, might convince her. Failing that he said he would make the ultimate sacrifice and sleep with her again.

“How are you feeling?” Kolfinna asked, noticing that Bron was sweating heavily and frequently lagged behind her. The fact that he had trouble keeping up with a pregnant women in her final term was not a good sign.

He grunted, “I’ll make it. There isn’t any other choice.”

…



“Kolfinna, Bron, you must come now! I had my agents spread some rumors about a pair of tribesmen seen fleeing towards Colcinder Cave. The Silver Hand all left late last night on a wild netch chase. Everything is all arranged. I have paid for your passage to the mainland with Captain Salt-Sage. I told him you were my assistants and that you wished to return to the mainland to have your child. He was a bit skeptical but the coin from your torque was enough to remove any doubt.”

Kolfinna bowed her head in thanks. Tivela had surprised her; she had never expected an outsider to be … well nice. Of course the coin she netted from the sale of the torque, and her nights with Bron, hadn’t hurt either. Yet Kolfinna knew there was more to it than mere greed. Tivela seemed to generally care for Bron and had doted on the youth ever since they had shown up at her door.

She had let out a gasp at the sight of poor Bron and immediately ushered them into her home. For three days she had cared for them while they regained their strength and waited for the next ship leaving for Skyrim. The day after she took them in a small band of Silver Hand showed up in the city asking a lot of questions. Tivela said most resented their arrogant and abusive manner and refused to help in any way. Still, she warned, gold could loosen tongues so she kept them confined to her home and hidden from all but her most trusted servants. Kolfinna had not minded the confinement. She found the noise and congestion of the city confusing and disorientating. She didn’t know how Bron put up with it.



The resiliency of youth she decided. She had smiled when she had teased him about sleeping with Tivela, asking him what had happened to his love Selene. He had blushed and said he was doing it for them, that it was part of the deal. Kolfinna had arched one eyebrow that indicated just what she thought about that excuse. Tivela was a striking women, with years of experience, and she suspected that Bron wasn’t all that put out.



She turned her mind back to the present as they left Tivela’s home. It was early morning and flurries of ash were falling, fed by the plume of Red Mountain. She pulled the heavy Skaal long coat Tivela had given her tighter around her body, doing her best to hide the fact that she was nine months pregnant. None of them knew if the Silver Hand actually knew them by name or description but it was clear they knew two had escaped their attack.

Bron walked protectively at her side, dressed in a hooded traveling robe, as Tivela let them down the winding path to the ship. She had them wait at the dock while she made final plans with the Captain.



A few minutes later she returned and escorted them to the boarding plank. Thankfully no Silver Hand were in sight. Accompanying them were too other staff members, joining them in the hopes that a group of four might throw off pursuers.

Tivela surprised Kolfinna by giving her a brief hug and whispering, “May Azura guide and protect you.” She paused then added softly, “I was born barren and can never have children of my own. The idea of you and your child falling into the hands of those filthy thugs … well I just couldn’t live with myself if I hadn’t tried to help.”

Kolfinna didn’t know what to say. Tivela knew who her tribe had been, surely she had heard the rumors. Yet still she had helped. Tears in her eyes Kolfinna just nodded.

Tivela then turned to Bron and pulled him in for a long lusty kiss. “Such a strong and viral young man you are. A true beast … in bed … and one I shall miss. Take care of yourself young Bron. Perhaps if the fates are kind you shall return to visit this old lady someday?” Bron smiled and nodded.

…

The two of them stood on the ship and watched as all they had ever known faded away from view.They held each other’s hands, alone and lost together. Their family, their tribe, everything they had known had been torn from them. What awaited them in Skyrim they could only guess.

They had only a little gold and few skills. In two weeks Kolfinna knew her child was due. But their biggest fear was that the Silver Hand might be waiting for them in Skyrim. All they had to go on were the vague words of Kolfinna’s vision and prayers to a Prince that had so far remained silent.

…



A figure stood on top of a hill overlooking Raven Rock Bay. Cold dead eyes scanned the horizon as he watched the ship sailing into the horizon. They had been out maneuvered and he was less then pleased. They had found nothing in the caves and he had quickly concluded they had been misled. They had turned about and raced at full speed back to the city only to have his fears confirmed; the ship had left a day early. The Oblivion damned inbreeds had been feeding him bad information ever since he and the Silver Hands had landed. He cursed the locals and their forsaken rock of land. His employer would not be happy.

He would still scour the backwater city for signs of the two he sought but he knew what he would find. Nothing. His instincts told him they were on that ship heading to Skyrim. There was nothing he could do but wait till the next ship arrived.



His thoughts were interrupted as one of the Silver Hand approached him. “What is it Mithis?” he asked, not bothering to hide his irritation.

“Lord Dareathys the men are ready as you requested. Should we begin the search now?”

Nelthas turned and eyes red as blood and colder than the void stared at the man. Mithis, a hardened veteran, dropped his eyes first.



“You won’t find them. They are on the ship. Still it will be at least two days before our own ship will arrive to pick us up. Until then we can amuse ourselves by interrogating a few of the locals. Maybe we can find out who helped our two fugitives escape.” Nelthas ordered and then dismissed the man.

Nelthas looked back out over the sea and watched the ship vanish. He narrowed his eyes and whispered to the wind.

"Enjoy your freedom while you can my little birds for soon your wings shall be clipped. No one escapes the Crimson Raven.”

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ENB: Noir ENB

Mod Highlight: Nelthas Dareathys - The Crimson Raven - A Dunmer Male Follower by Liadys

Note on Images: I wanted to differentiate the story before Kavel was born from when he first enters the world. So I wanted this chapter to have a very surreal feeling, almost as if it took place in the spirit realm, nothing more than memories. I also didn't want to try and find a way to make Kolfinna pregant so the shots were more abstract and vague on purpose. In part two of the prologue Kolfinna shall have her child and thus the rest of the story will use my standard ENB preset.

Bonus Shot: