CHAPTER 44: I'm seeing little blue men WITHOUT the benefit of drugs!
Wherein our hero decides that maybe, just maybe, wholesale slaughter is not always the best policy.
Previous: Chapter 43: Nchardak is Dwemeris for "Sneeze"

Well, I went ahead and wandered around the island, cleansing the stones by shouting at them and killing the fish monster that pops up. I feel like a total asshole, here - I go and scream as loud as I can and blow up some innocent, peace-loving fishman's house (insert your own big bad wolf joke here), and when he emerges from his hole to threaten legal action for my unwarranted attack on his domicile, I straight up murder him. But hey, nobody around me complains, probably because these manfrog monsters are, like, really evil. Honestly, can't you tell? They're super ugly and stuff. They've gotta be evil, nothing good ever looks like that, amiright?

Desperately clinging to my last shreds of integrity, consoling myself with the thought that although I may randomly murder the denizens of the world for being a little different, at least I don't desecrate the corpses, I start back for the Skaal village to talk to the old man about his super-important secrets, hoping to beg, borrow, or steal this ancient, closely-guarded knowledge so I can hand it over to a lump of tentacle-spewing green poop in return for the ability to mind control innocent people, and I guess there goes the last shreds of my integrity anyway. I'm a monster.

On the way there, I run across a shack in the snow, populated by the little blue goblin dudes. I ready my weapons, but apparently they don't want to fight. The one little goblin who hops up to me asks me to follow him. I'd normally ignore an invitation from a despair-produced hallucination like this, but what the hell, I'll go ahead and follow the little bugger. Maybe he'll lead me out the other end of the rabbit hole.

Inside the shack, there are a bunch more Rieklings, including one sitting on a throne wearing an impressive hat. I ask him why he's living in this shack when most of his people tend to live in caves and the like, and he responds with the most honest response I'd ever get from any NPC anywhere - a warm fire, good food, and pleasant company. If not for the blue tint and odd facial features, I'd think these guys were hobbits.

Anyway, he asks me to help his tribe by finding something called "Bilgemuck" which turns out to be a pig he lost. Exploring the immediate area, it turns out that this place used to be the home of a group of Nords, currently exiled to the bottom of the hill by these Rieklings, because when you're an ostensibly combat-oriented group of battle-hardened warriors, of course a couple of pint-sized pixies can oust you from your home. The Nords ask me to help them re-conquer their home, but... I have to refuse. Thinking back on it, and remembering in particular the vaguely-religious aspect of a bunch of blue goblin dudes apparently worshipping a horse and carriage, I am forced to conclude that the Rieklings are not mindless, permanently-aggressive beasts like the Falmer. In fact, they seem to have a well-developed culture of their own, including religious ceremonies, the concept of land and dwelling ownership, complex tool making, and an advanced astrological calendar that is so precise it can tell you the exact position of the moons and stars at any given point in time ("Probably somewhere above the clouds" states the amazing Riekling calendar). I just can't bear to side with the humans against these little guys. Not that there's much difference, actually. I mean, just think about the similarities - a warrior culture with a single, dictatorial leader, ensconced in a wooden structure filled with memorials of past battles and glories, and they sit around drinking mead all day long, dressed in their animal skin clothing, and asking random passing strangers to do odd jobs. If not for the height difference, I couldn't tell the Nords from the Rieklings.

So no, I do not intend to oust these guys from their home in favor of the guys at the bottom of the hill. As far as I'm concerned, they can go make a new mead hall. Call it Thirsk 2: Thirskier.
On the other hand, I also have no intention of tracking down some lost pig for a tiny blue man, either. Didn't I already have a quest? Oh yeah, cleansing the stones. Well, I guess that sounds better than hunting bacon on the hoof.

Back at the village, Storn seems reluctant to talk about the Skaal's secrets, which I find commendable. Most of the time, when I ask someone about their secret cult or hidden camp or clandestine plans, they're only too happy to just blab it right out to me, because I have such a trustworthy face. He eventually relents, though, and decides to give Mora the secrets, which he says are, and I quote, "Ancient lore... How to talk to the wind, how to listen to the earth... Nothing of power or mastery."

Um, dude? If your secrets are nothing about power or mastery, and contain nothing more than how to listen to the earth, why the fuck are you so worried about Mora getting his hands tentacles on them? I mean, if the secret was something like "Ten Ways To Cook Skaal Villager Pies" or "Mortals - Consuming Their Souls The Easy Way" or even "Converting Water Into Wine For Beginners," I'd see why you'd zealously guard those secrets against Mora's grasping pseudopods. But this? Talk to the wind? I can do that just by imbibing great quantities of alcohol! Then drop my pants and sing Lydia the Tattooed Lady for good measure!

Shaking my head in disgust, I decide to just let it happen. Let Mora have those secrets, it's not like the Skaal are doing anything with them. Existing, sure - maybe quite a nice existence, what with the constant threat of Daedric assimilation, living in the freezing snow and icy winds, and periodically getting their minds controlled by relatively benign ancient Dragonborn dudes. Lost family members, children desperate to see the outside world, failing food supplies, and the old guy and his hereditary position of leadership keeps them bound to this place against their wills? As far as I'm concerned, Mora can burn down the fucking village, force these barbaric imbeciles to migrate to a warmer climate where the risk of demonic mindrape is maybe a tad lower. I just can't see staying here, you know? Your entire lives are wrapped in misery and despair and you cling to that horrible existence like a limpet on a rock, too blind to see any alternatives... uh...

Okay, that got off track a bit. I wash my hands of the whole rotten affair. Apparently the old guy is of the same opinion, even though his position means he can't articulate it - he decides that suicide is the best route, because of another ancient prophecy that said the Skaal would eventually give in anyway. I manfully resist the temptation to ask why the fuck they didn't give in a few generations earlier, they could all be sitting pretty down in Raven Rock or something, enriching the local economy and culture and maybe reinvigorating the town with their presence. Or hell, back to Skyrim. Fuck it all, go be slaves to the Altmer, have all the same fucking problems but at least it'll be in the warm...

Augh! Enough! The old man takes the black book and opens it, despite his daughter's desperate pleas to keep to the status quo, and is... um... penetrated... by Mora's tentacles. Long time between short-skirted schoolgirls, eh, tentacle monster? Anyway, Mora tells me the word of power, Storn drops dead, and Frea tells me to bugger off and kill Miraak. Which, come to think of it, must be the end result of this particular chain of quests, yes?

I... I don't think I can go through with that. Miraak has been nothing but gentlemanly to me so far, and I have no desire to fight the guy, just because a bunch of idiots tell me to. I'm going to head back to the Raven Rock bar instead, and hopefully drown those brain cells responsible for bringing me to this island.

YAIAP
Next: Whatever You Say
Start at Chapter 1