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Maeara's Journal: Day 58, Giantslayer.
9 years ago
General
After claiming the weapons of Holfir Giant-Slayer, I found myself in a predicament. I had to search for the knowledge of where to find his Giant nemesis, and in doing so I had to delve deep into legendry and mythology, for tales of Barlok'Gosh go back as far as three centuries.
The legends surrounding Barlok'Gosh are as diverse as they are unhelpful. Some people claim he was only a normal Giant before he became the favored of one of the Daedra. Other legends claim he grew so enormous by devouring the flesh of lesser Giants, and that he was immortal like the Dragons of legend. All that anyone could really be sure of was that he was savage, powerful and titanic in size. And of course that he was SOMEWHERE out there in Skyrim.
It took a bit of digging, searching and questioning, but finally I got enough information to help me piece together a rough map of sightings. Everything came to a head between Falkreath and Markarth, in a mountainous stretch just beyond the mouth of an old Nord trade road to Hammerfell known as Bodean's Pass. I'd never heard of the place, but that is mostly because the Hammerfell entrance to the old passage had collapsed decades ago, long before my time.
Finding it was easy enough, although getting there was a chore once I knew where to go. Scrabbling over rocks and hills, dodging bands of Forsworn and vicious Cave Bears as I made my way to the old stone staircase leading to the partially obscured entrance. What I found awaiting me was a shock, though.
Redguard Smugglers had set up a series of firetraps in the tunnel, and had been using it to transport gold, furs and stolen goods back and forth from Hammerfell to Skyrim for who knows how long. Long enough that they were well established in the tunnel, and had evidently tamed some giant spiders to act as guard dogs.
Nothing a few judicious applications of fire-bottles and arrows couldn't fix, and in due time I had eliminated the last of the Smugglers. All that left was the passageway into Bodean's Pass itself, a river valley running through the craggy landscape between the two kingdoms. I have to admit, the Redguards had done a fine job clearing the passage so they could smuggle their wares, but I don't think they had anticipated it being closed anew by a Giant that had claimed the valley for a home.
To say that my first sighting of Barlok'Gosh was shocking would be an understatement. He was gargantuan; twice the size of any Giant I'd ever heard tell of before. Eyes that glowed an eerie, cold blue, worn skin like the hide of a great mammoth sans the fur, and a club made from what must have been one of the few Valenwood trees that had ever grown in Skyrim, a boulder mounted to the haft and bound in place with long strips of hide. He was looming over a freshly killed Orc, a heroic figure in plate armor that had no doubt been a guard for the smugglers...As had the number of other dead, scattered Orc mercenary corpses all around the stone bridge crossing the river at the heart of the valley.
I came into the valley in the rain and wind, lightning illuminating the monster in stark relief. Instinct drove me, told me to flee and hide. But I had made it far enough to see Holfir Giant-Slayer's nemesis, and the bow in my grip felt...Right. I nocked an arrow and let fly, piercing the creature's neck on the right side, earning a bellow and a sweeping swing of that enormous club. I managed to duck it as the lumbering beast took one huge step and brought the club down in an arc, fracturing stone and toppling trees as it crashed into the forested slope at my side.
I ran then, not in cowardice but with purpose. Down to the bridge; I lead him into the open, where I had room to move, where I could circle him and fire. He chased me to the bridge, where I fired again and again. I waited for him to close and then I jumped over the side, tucking and rolling under the bridge itself even as his club came down and moorings shook in the soil.
I took the fight to him, peppering his thighs and groin, firing into his gut. It was a death by degrees, each arrow made to slay giants, each shot placed with precision. He swung and swung, yelling and swearing in whatever language Giants speak, stopping to heave a boulder at the bridge as I scrambled away. I kept him moving, kept him off balance. He had to step into the mud and move over rough terrain, while I was at home moving with speed and agility through the scrub and between the rocks. Size isn't your ally when your foe is smarter and faster.
The battle raged, the beast wearing down with time. It must have been an hour of steady fighting, darkness broken only by flashes of lightning, rolls of thunder mingling with roars and crashes. It was as he almost collapsed the stone bridge with a stomp that I finally got my best shot to end it. He leaned down, dropping his club and reaching for me as I backed down the bridge.
I slotted an arrow into his right eye. He reeled back and wailed, grasping at his face as he stumbled. I dropped the bow and drew the greatsword of Holfir Giant-Slayer from my back, jumping from the bridge and moving around his tramping, thudding feet. His tendons. The sword sang as it sliced through the moist air, sinking into sinew as sturdy as leather armor and sliding through it with shocking ease. It was only the jarring thud of metal on bone that halted the blade, and only a startled scream that bore out the Giant's downfall.
He tumbled then, falling onto the bridge. He crashed into his head first, knocking a great chunk of stone from it and bludgeoning himself into a stupor. He rolled onto his back in the river, groaning, bloodied and worn. He had dislodged the arrow from his eye, the bloody globe rolling toward me. As I watched him there, his breathing shallow, the rain washing his weary face clean, I felt something like pity briefly. He was so old; so ancient. Had he been made to live so long against his will? A cruel trick by the Daedra, like my Lycanthropy?
It mattered not. He was dying, and I was alive. I knew what I had to do. There was no hesitation, no time to think about what was happening. I brought the blade back and down in a single swift stroke, right into brow, through flesh and bone. A swift stroke into the brain, faster than the death that awaited as he bled to death in the chill waters of the mountain pass.
The Giant, the legend, Barlok'Gosh, was no more. The river ran red, and my muscles screamed in exhaustion. The battle had left me shaken, but exhilarated. I had done it. I had felled the Giant, and fulfilled Holfir Giant-Slayer's oath to destroy the monster.
The rewards were minimal, of course. It had been a request, not a bounty, so there was no pay coming. I found the smuggler caravan's smashed cart, and salvaged some gems and gold from it, and I found the coin purses from the Orc mercenaries. Barlok'Gosh had quite a midden of dead warriors to sift through as well, most of them mummified due to the mountain cold. I came away with more gold than I had to begin with, and I intend to keep the weapons of Holfir Giant-Slayer. His armor and sword will find places of honor, displayed in my home in his memory...As will the skull of Barlok'Gosh, which I will have collected by mercenaries of my own hiring and carted to my home.
My true payment is that this will contribute to my legend. This will help to cement my identity as a hero. I didn't think I'd ever want that, that I'd ever aspire to heroism, but...You know what?
It suits me.
The legends surrounding Barlok'Gosh are as diverse as they are unhelpful. Some people claim he was only a normal Giant before he became the favored of one of the Daedra. Other legends claim he grew so enormous by devouring the flesh of lesser Giants, and that he was immortal like the Dragons of legend. All that anyone could really be sure of was that he was savage, powerful and titanic in size. And of course that he was SOMEWHERE out there in Skyrim.
It took a bit of digging, searching and questioning, but finally I got enough information to help me piece together a rough map of sightings. Everything came to a head between Falkreath and Markarth, in a mountainous stretch just beyond the mouth of an old Nord trade road to Hammerfell known as Bodean's Pass. I'd never heard of the place, but that is mostly because the Hammerfell entrance to the old passage had collapsed decades ago, long before my time.
Finding it was easy enough, although getting there was a chore once I knew where to go. Scrabbling over rocks and hills, dodging bands of Forsworn and vicious Cave Bears as I made my way to the old stone staircase leading to the partially obscured entrance. What I found awaiting me was a shock, though.
Redguard Smugglers had set up a series of firetraps in the tunnel, and had been using it to transport gold, furs and stolen goods back and forth from Hammerfell to Skyrim for who knows how long. Long enough that they were well established in the tunnel, and had evidently tamed some giant spiders to act as guard dogs.
Nothing a few judicious applications of fire-bottles and arrows couldn't fix, and in due time I had eliminated the last of the Smugglers. All that left was the passageway into Bodean's Pass itself, a river valley running through the craggy landscape between the two kingdoms. I have to admit, the Redguards had done a fine job clearing the passage so they could smuggle their wares, but I don't think they had anticipated it being closed anew by a Giant that had claimed the valley for a home.
To say that my first sighting of Barlok'Gosh was shocking would be an understatement. He was gargantuan; twice the size of any Giant I'd ever heard tell of before. Eyes that glowed an eerie, cold blue, worn skin like the hide of a great mammoth sans the fur, and a club made from what must have been one of the few Valenwood trees that had ever grown in Skyrim, a boulder mounted to the haft and bound in place with long strips of hide. He was looming over a freshly killed Orc, a heroic figure in plate armor that had no doubt been a guard for the smugglers...As had the number of other dead, scattered Orc mercenary corpses all around the stone bridge crossing the river at the heart of the valley.
I came into the valley in the rain and wind, lightning illuminating the monster in stark relief. Instinct drove me, told me to flee and hide. But I had made it far enough to see Holfir Giant-Slayer's nemesis, and the bow in my grip felt...Right. I nocked an arrow and let fly, piercing the creature's neck on the right side, earning a bellow and a sweeping swing of that enormous club. I managed to duck it as the lumbering beast took one huge step and brought the club down in an arc, fracturing stone and toppling trees as it crashed into the forested slope at my side.
I ran then, not in cowardice but with purpose. Down to the bridge; I lead him into the open, where I had room to move, where I could circle him and fire. He chased me to the bridge, where I fired again and again. I waited for him to close and then I jumped over the side, tucking and rolling under the bridge itself even as his club came down and moorings shook in the soil.
I took the fight to him, peppering his thighs and groin, firing into his gut. It was a death by degrees, each arrow made to slay giants, each shot placed with precision. He swung and swung, yelling and swearing in whatever language Giants speak, stopping to heave a boulder at the bridge as I scrambled away. I kept him moving, kept him off balance. He had to step into the mud and move over rough terrain, while I was at home moving with speed and agility through the scrub and between the rocks. Size isn't your ally when your foe is smarter and faster.
The battle raged, the beast wearing down with time. It must have been an hour of steady fighting, darkness broken only by flashes of lightning, rolls of thunder mingling with roars and crashes. It was as he almost collapsed the stone bridge with a stomp that I finally got my best shot to end it. He leaned down, dropping his club and reaching for me as I backed down the bridge.
I slotted an arrow into his right eye. He reeled back and wailed, grasping at his face as he stumbled. I dropped the bow and drew the greatsword of Holfir Giant-Slayer from my back, jumping from the bridge and moving around his tramping, thudding feet. His tendons. The sword sang as it sliced through the moist air, sinking into sinew as sturdy as leather armor and sliding through it with shocking ease. It was only the jarring thud of metal on bone that halted the blade, and only a startled scream that bore out the Giant's downfall.
He tumbled then, falling onto the bridge. He crashed into his head first, knocking a great chunk of stone from it and bludgeoning himself into a stupor. He rolled onto his back in the river, groaning, bloodied and worn. He had dislodged the arrow from his eye, the bloody globe rolling toward me. As I watched him there, his breathing shallow, the rain washing his weary face clean, I felt something like pity briefly. He was so old; so ancient. Had he been made to live so long against his will? A cruel trick by the Daedra, like my Lycanthropy?
It mattered not. He was dying, and I was alive. I knew what I had to do. There was no hesitation, no time to think about what was happening. I brought the blade back and down in a single swift stroke, right into brow, through flesh and bone. A swift stroke into the brain, faster than the death that awaited as he bled to death in the chill waters of the mountain pass.
The Giant, the legend, Barlok'Gosh, was no more. The river ran red, and my muscles screamed in exhaustion. The battle had left me shaken, but exhilarated. I had done it. I had felled the Giant, and fulfilled Holfir Giant-Slayer's oath to destroy the monster.
The rewards were minimal, of course. It had been a request, not a bounty, so there was no pay coming. I found the smuggler caravan's smashed cart, and salvaged some gems and gold from it, and I found the coin purses from the Orc mercenaries. Barlok'Gosh had quite a midden of dead warriors to sift through as well, most of them mummified due to the mountain cold. I came away with more gold than I had to begin with, and I intend to keep the weapons of Holfir Giant-Slayer. His armor and sword will find places of honor, displayed in my home in his memory...As will the skull of Barlok'Gosh, which I will have collected by mercenaries of my own hiring and carted to my home.
My true payment is that this will contribute to my legend. This will help to cement my identity as a hero. I didn't think I'd ever want that, that I'd ever aspire to heroism, but...You know what?
It suits me.
KaevielEff
~kaevieleff
Wow... Way to go Maera. That is quite a feat. I can only imagine how proud she is after that. Though probably kind of wiped after that. Perhaps she should see about some more... Relaxing... Activities after such an undertaking.
Mama Jo
~josephh
OP
For her first encounter with a Giant, it was pretty damn off the rails. But hey, free loot!
