Oh holy shit, this chapter. I want to say 'wonderful', but having got to the end, that word doesn't seem appropriate. Poor Seren. And I was starting to *really* like her again. To pull that twist, and in such a heartbreaking way with Makela getting sick as well... It's beautifully done, and painful to read, especially after how hard she's been fighting for Dawnstar. Keeping my fingers crossed that she'll pull through, but it's not looking good.

Something else I think you've done extremely well is the recapping of Varulf's backstory at the beginning, the three paragraphs starting with the one that begins: 'The same, however, could not be said for Ulfric'. It's a risky thing to do, since it could come off so easily as info-dumping, but in this case it doesn't at all - it's neatly done, easy to follow and understand, and it's *interesting*. Part of this, I think, is because you've worked some conflict into it - Varulf's doubts over killing Ulfric, and how loyal his men are to him really.

One thing though: the way you describe Makela makes her seem much younger than two though. Swaddling, for instance, tends to be for much younger babies (up until 6-9 months, AFAIK). And 2-year olds aren't always that cooperative when it comes to breastfeeding either (also they weigh a ton, so not that easy to heft about one-handed while you're trying to do other stuff, although Seren probably has a fair amount of upper arm strength). Every mother has different experiences, of course, but this did jar a little with mine.

There's an interesting shift in tone here, from the ghostly feeling of the prologue and first chapter, to something closer in feel to a thriller, but still with that beautifully spooky moment at the end. As much as I waffled on a bit about how much I loved ghost stories in my first reviews, I liked the thriller feel too. You keep catching me off-guard, and although it isn't always pleasant (the chapter ending!), it's a wonderful read.

Some in-line comments to follow.

[Windhelm was not a city known for its colors.
The forests of Falkreath had their greens, the plains of Whiterun had their golden-browns, and the waters below Solitude had their sparkling blues. But in the eternal winter that shrouded the oldest city in Skyrim, any trace of green and brown it had once possessed was buried under snowdrifts that were older by far. The slice of the River Yorgrim that bordered its southern wall was more gray than it was blue, and frequently iced over, requiring cracking almost on a daily basis so that any ships that made berth here wouldn't be leaving the docks with a huge gash in their keels from any errant ice.]

I like this chapter opening an awful lot. It sets the scene immediately, and the phrasing - such as 'eternal winter' - is evocative.

'snowdrifts that were older by far' is a little vague though. Older than what?

[He'd been much more of a man in death than Varulf knew he would ever be in life—but a man he still remained.]

The wording is a little unclear here. I'm not sure if the 'he' in 'he would ever be in life' refers to Ulfric or Varulf. If Ulfric then perhaps: 'he would ever have been', and if Varulf then perhaps: 'Varulf would ever be'

[He too, after all, was a man who'd found himself in a position of political power ]

It's not immediately clear who the subject of this sentence is. I'm guessing Brunwulf, but on first reading I thought it was Varulf.

[His words sounded so pompous that if he closed his eyes, Varulf thought for a moment he was actually talking to a mage of the College.]

Doesn't quite make sense as it stands: the first half is a conditional clause, but the second half assumes that he's actually closing his eyes. Perhaps: 'Varulf might think he was actually'

[I've done everything I know I'm able to do … but I have no choice but to rely on the Dragonborn for this. I don't know what else to do … I don't even know if it'll be enough, in the face of a foe like this.
… Gods, I hope he's here, Varulf thought as he took his leave of the great hall, heading up the hallway that led to his chambers.]

Got to say I'm really *really* intrigued by what happened in the past, and I think you've done a really decent job of hinting at what happened without spilling too much information. I'm guessing it's all covered by the previous stories in the series.

[What was more, they were dipped in what smelled like lavender, giving off a sharp, The aroma that now emanated from the kitchen,]

Missing word at the end of the sentence.

Perhaps: 'what smelled like lavender oil' or 'dipped in an oil that smelled like lavender' - something to imply some kind of liquid.

[Seren had told him as she laid Makela in her cradle. The baby had been swaddled as warmly and comfortably as circumstances would allow; no sooner had she been replaced in her tiny bed than Seren proceeded to rip up a number of very old clothes into strips.]

Makela's two, isn't she? That seems *really* old to still be swaddling, which AFAIK usually ends around 6-9 months when babies start to get more active. Any healthy toddler would pretty much immediately kick off swaddling straight away (they move around *a lot* in bed while sleeping, not just rolling over but turning around lengthwise as well), and to make sure they wouldn't I suspect it would have to be so tight that it might cause them actual long-term damage.

[Seren's covered face looked directly at him. "Dangerous situations sometimes call for dangerous risks." Her muffled voice was like steel. "I will not cower like a frightened maiden when danger breathes on the shoulders of my home and my family—because that is not what I am. I will face this danger like a warrior—like a Redguard. Because that is what I am."
Were it not for the rags covering their lips, Rustleif would have kissed his wife on the spot—disease be damned. Instead, he merely settled for an intense look at her swathed face as he embraced her, never more in love with this woman since first meeting her in Hammerfell, those long-past days when he was merely an apprentice who'd caught this woman's eye. His master had been her father, and had jovially given them both his blessings.]

Absolutely love these two paragraphs. You've done a wonderful job expanding on these two. And I think I pretty much adore Seren; she's strong, but not stereotypically so. She had the foresight to get a message out to Windhelm, and she's doing her damndest to fight for the town.

[Up close, he could see that the Crimson Ship suited its name; not only the sails, but the entire hull as well, had been stained a dark crimson color—it looked as though it had been sailing in blood. For all Rustleif knew from Seren's tale, something of the sort might well have been the case so long ago. He spent the next few moments trying to fight away the resultant mental image of dozens of sailors huddled together in terror as their bodies bled out from the plague, staining the wood of the ship, and running in rivulets off the hull to form a trail of blood in the ship's wake.]

Gave me the shivers. I love it.

[It was an unfamiliar feeling—but at the same time, it sounded beautiful. On any other day, the blacksmith would have been entranced by these sounds, would have blocked out all else as he listened to them for hours.]

There's no actual description of what the sounds he's hearing are. You mention the unfamiliar stillness, and then the sounds of his blacksmithing forge, but don't actually state what he's able to hear other than that, which makes this read a little oddly. Perhaps a little extra line of description?

[The stench was the worst of it all, though; Rustleif realized at once that all the herbs Seren had put into her broth were not simply to contribute to the imbiber's recovery, but to mask the smell of decay that was left behind by the people who did not.]

Perhaps a slight reword here, as I keep snagging on 'by the people who did not'. I keep reading it to mean 'did not contribute' instead. Perhaps: 'the people who never made a recovery.'

[the cloying smell of raw human waste]

Not sure 'cloying' is the right word to use here. I usually associate it with overly sweet or rich smells, so I'm not sure it really fits with the stink of faeces.

[While he and Seren looked on, one of the bedrolls suddenly stopped twitching. Suddenly, the pool of blood beneath it grew larger and darker, spreading out from around the bedroll. As if this had been some sort of signal, two guards leapt from their posts to attend to the individual inside. Gingerly, they hoisted up the bedroll—which now began dripping with brownish-red sludge that made Rustleif sick to just look at it—and carried it to the door he knew led to the town jail. A guard posted there opened the door—and the other two guards heaved their dying companion past the threshold, whereupon a wet smack, like raw meat on stone, was heard seconds later.]

Repetition of 'suddenly' in the first two sentences.

Also this whole passage? Bleeuugh. Jaw-droppingly disgusting. XD 'wet smack, like raw meat on stone' ('slapping down on a butcher's counter'?) is so horribly evocative. Nice work.

[ the cloying smell of raw human waste]
[whereupon a wet smack, like raw meat on stone,]
[His words sounded raw,]

'raw' used a few times in fairly close proximity

[They returned home to the stifled cries of Makela, and for a moment Rustleif feared the worst. But Seren, after shedding the swaddling that covered the infant's body, soon determined that she was hungry—and rather pungent, too.]

Again, Makela feels like a much younger baby to me here. She's at the age when they start climbing out of their cots, and unless she's only just woken up, and is still half-asleep, she'd probably be standing up in the cot.

I really like that she's still being breastfed at two, but at that age they're bloody little monkeys, constantly distracted by everything around them, breaking off to gawp at something across the room (assuming they bother to unlatch: chances are they'll just turn their heads around still attached to the nipple, grab at whatever you're doing (which would make breastfeeding while cooking tricky), etc), and they weigh a freaking ton.

A cup of the hot broth (cooled down a little) instead, perhaps?

'infant' implies a much younger baby as well, I think.

[In the quiet that had enveloped the town, sounds that Rustleif had never taken the time to hear were now magnified tenfold, even indoors. Even through the drafty doors, the thatched roof, and the shredded clothes over his face, the blacksmith could hear every gust of wind and roll of waves as clearly as if they were in the next room.]

I really *really* like the description here, but the situation is very similar to an earlier paragraph:

[In his efforts to stave off the imagery, Rustleif closed his eyes, trying his hardest to focus on the unfamiliar stillness that had settled over his town like a heavy quilt. Though he had lived here for a long time, the blacksmith had never taken the time to really hear what the world sounded like outside of the life he lived.]

There's some similarities in the wording 'taken the time to hear', as well as in the premise, and it feels odd to have two paragraphs with such similar content without some sort of call-back to link the two.

It's a immensely powerful image (silence settling on the town, and especially with him being the blacksmith it being something he's unused to it makes sense for his attention to keep wandering back to it), but perhaps a little bit of tweaking to make it clear that this is something that keeps happening. In particular, removing the repeated wording, since that adds to the feeling of redundancy.

But having said all that let me stress again that the description here is still *beautiful*.

[Rustleif nodded grimly. "So who's out there?"]

So creepy.

[For a moment, he thought it might have been a trick of the light—a reflection of a sunbeam off the snow—but there it was, plain as the day; it stood atop the highest point of the White Hall, perched on the rafter as if it was about to dive right off. A tall, thin figure it was, clad in silver-white gossamer; the dress hugged its supple curves. Rustleif could not make out any hair beneath the long, flowing veil that concealed its face. The song it sang was positively entrancing; he could not look away from the figure.]

Damndamndamn, absolutely LOVE this. (Maybe one too many semi-colons though)

[The singing stopped at that moment, and Dawnstar was silent once more. At that moment, Rustleif became aware that the figure atop the Jarl's residence was moving. The fluttering of its garments in the wind made it difficult to tell, but it almost appeared to be turning around, as if taking in its surroundings from on high. After a few moments of this, however, it suddenly stopped; Rustleif was just barely able to see that its chest was facing in their direction.
He felt a chill as he remembered what that guard had said: " … something about a woman in a white dress … "
"Seren … ?"
But the question died on his lips when he saw what the figure was doing now. A single arm, pale as the snow around it, was raised to its fullest extent—and then swung, unmistakably, in the direction of the blacksmith.]

Fantastic. This is beautifully creepy, and that final paragraph is *chilling*.

There's a few repeats of 'moment' and 'moments' though, so you might want to consider rewording a little to remove some of the repetition.

[By the time Rustleif had reached the cradle, Seren had stripped Makela to her skin—and both husband and wife had clapped a hand to their mouths in horror when they saw the faint red spots that lined the lips of their only child.]

Nooooo! Aw, crap, D:

[But the horror didn't stop there. Slowly, almost painfully so, Rustleif turned to face his wife, but the stricken look in Seren's tearing eyes told him everything he'd feared was true. The wrappings that covered the baby's favored breast had already been pulled aside, exposing the brown flesh underneath.
And around her nipple, the same crimson spots …]

Oh damn. This is actually heartbreaking. And I liked Seren so much too.

And I really hope this comment isn't too long and massively overwhelming. I know I have a tendency to blather on a bit. As much as that ending makes me feel like my heart's getting ripped out (why Seren? Why?!), it took me completely off-guard. Wonderful work.

I can't say how glad I am that I clicked on this story, because it's *so good.* It's so chilling how quickly the disease takes hold and develops, and that whole scene with Guthrum in the jail was horrible... in a good way (although you might want to add in a warning for emetophobes, because bleugh... :p).

Wonderful chapter. Really enjoyed it. I love the ghostly spooky feel of the story. Seriously, this is wonderful. It makes me think of all those horror stories I read growing up, about sleepy towns cut off from the rest of the world. And John Carpenter's The Fog springs to mind. It's a genre I never expected to see set in Skyrim, and it makes me happy to see (and gives me the creeping chills at the same time). I love a good ghost story.

Also, I'm guessing this is a resurgence of the slug famine? I don't know that much about it - am not nearly as much of a lore buff as I aspire to be - but I'm really, *really* excited to see where you're going to take this.

Con-crit-wise, one thing you could take a look at is how much you use epithets. For the most part it didn't bother me, but in the scene with Guthrum in his cell, I did start to notice how many times you referred to him as 'the sailor'. These bits in particular, 'Every inch of the sailor felt like', 'The sickly sailor had practically' and 'and the aging Nord expelled the remnants' I think might benefit from using his name or the pronoun.

Part of the reason why I think it started to bother me then where it didn't before is because he's on his own, so the focus is entirely on him. The use of epithets there feels a little jarring, like the focus has suddenly switched to another character that I didn't realise was there.

Some in-line comments now.

["Guthrum's on his way back, Captain," he said sotto voce to Wayfinder, whose rusty hair was all Ravam could see behind the unfolded map.
"I don't like your tone of voice, Ravam," Captain Leif Wayfinder grunted back at him. "And I'm guessing that means I'm not going to like what Guthrum brought back, am I right?"
Ravam laughed in a hollow, bleak sort of way. "I'm guessing so," he replied.
Wayfinder heaved himself upward with a groan, sliding his charts under the plate of cold, sodden flatbread that constituted his breakfast. "Wonderful. Can I trust you to hold me back if I try to kill him?"]

I really like this bit of dialogue between them. Clearly the Captain's sharper than they give him credit for, and the details and the dialogue itself are both wonderful.

[The legend of the White Widow had never stayed the same—Guthrum's tale to Ravam this morning had only been its latest, most recent iteration. Other, more outlandish claims had dominated the history of this myth; over the course of time, the specter had been anything from a wispmother, a rare but deadly spirit, to the ghost of a vengeful Falmer, one of the ice-elves of the elder days. All they had in common was an apparent power to command the seas to their will, and using that power to wipe out anyone who had the misfortune to look this spirit in the eye.]

I love this so much: how it reflects the way urban legends shift and evolve.

[Besides, Guthrum was certain that the song he had been hearing wasn't truly meant to scare anything away—but to call something else toward it instead. That ship, for the brief moment his eyes had seen it, looked as though it had been through the Deadlands, the Quagmire, and several realms of Oblivion that Guthrum dared not imagine. The timber of the hull looked weatherworn; the sails patched, frayed, and punctured—completely at odds with how any seaworthy ship ought to look!
And then it had hit him that the White Widow's song might have been something more than a song … a message, sent across the wind and waves for anyone to hear its mysterious words … and that ship had responded.]

It's a little distracting how you start off and end here with his realisation that the song is a message, with the description of the ship (which is wonderful, btw) sandwiched in the middle. It reads a little like he's realising it twice. I'd suggest shifting the first line ['Besides, Guthrum was certain'] to the end of the paragraph and reworking it to combine with that final line.

[ it's that Daedra-forsaken ship!" ]

I'm not a lore-expert by any means but 'Daedra-forsaken' (as opposed to 'god-forsaken') seems like an odd phrase to use. Something like 'Daedra-blighted' seems like it would fit better.

[ "And while she's doing her best to raise Makela a much a ]

Typo: 'as much a' I think?

[Rustleif barely caught the last words, having placed the sizzling swordblade back in his slack tub to cool at that moment. "After everything that happened in Solitude last year … that necromancer attack … the Emperor dead … Ulfric dead … "]

It's not immediately clear that it's Skald who's saying those words, partly because it comes after Rustleif's bit of action, which reads as a dialogue beat. Perhaps have the dialogue on a separate paragraph, and consider adding in a tag or a beat as well.

[had opened up briefly, just for an instant, and the brief clarity allowed his roving eyes a split-second view of the shoals beyond the bay, and the icebergs beyond that.]

There's a bit of redundancy in this sentence: repetition of 'brief' and 'briefly', as well as 'just for an instant' and 'a split-second'.

[But even so, Rustleif had been married to Seren long enough that she wouldn't simply let this go.]

'to know that she wouldn't' perhaps?

[Frorkmar, to Rustleif's knowledge, was not a married man—but the Stormcloak's nod of understanding eventually answered that question for him.]

Really like that.

[but in breathes, hacks, and coughs.]

Typo: 'breaths'

[even though the guards repeatedly told him to room was]

'the room'

[All he wanted to do was just lay there.
All he wanted to think about was just laying there.]

Should be: 'lie there' and 'lying there.' Also not sure you need the 'just's

[Guthrum made for his cell door as quickly as his body would allow]

Perhaps 'dragged himself to his cell door'. The current wording jarred a little, since you mentioned he wasn't able to relieve himself without help from the guards. As it stands, the current wording suggests he's actually moving quite quickly.

[Guthrum barely heard the guard roaring for a medic to get down here on the double]

'healer' perhaps: 'medic', especially when combined with the use of 'on the double', feels a little too modern to me.

[And through it all, Guthrum—even as his body began to thrash about, scattering and smearing blood, digested food, and human waste everywhere, no longer able to fight back against the inevitable—was still coughing.]

So, so, so gruesome. I love it.

[had imbibed a considerably less amount that what his captain had;]

Typo: 'than what' but perhaps: 'imbibed considerably less than'

[A woman inside the tavern began singing a song—a very beautiful one, Ravam might have thought, if he was paying any more attention to care. "Is it about Guthrum?" he asked.]

Ooooooh. I love how quietly you sneak this in.

[Luckily, it looked as though his second round of vomiting had brought him to most of his senses—Ravam was too bewildered at what he had just witnessed to wonder why this was—and he began speaking more coherently from here on out.]

it's not immediately clear what's meant why 'what he had just witnessed', whether it's the business with the singer in the inn or Wayfinder's second bout of vomiting.

Also... sometimes vomiting after drinking a lot can bring people back to their senses a little bit, even if it doesn't technically sober them up, so Ravam's wondering why Wayfinder seems to recovers his senses (or rather not wondering why) jarred with me just the tiniest bit. I also wondered a little why, in the inn, there wasn't more of an assumption that Wayfinder wasn't just shit-faced? Ravam might have known he wasn't, but the other patrons probably wouldn't have realised that.

[he could not see any sign of damage from the freezing winds and water of the far north.]

This description differs quite a bit to the description of when Guthrum saw the ship: 'The timber of the hull looked weatherworn; the sails patched, frayed, and punctured—completely at odds with how any seaworthy ship ought to look!'

It's an interesting contrast, and I'm not sure if it was a mistake, or deliberate, like the ship is shifting from person to person or - and this is an unnerving thought - growing stronger.

[Seren had not screamed or fainted at the site]

Typo: 'sight'

Anyway, I suspect I will be going on to read the other stories in your series when I get to the end of this one, because I like the way you write. A lot. So far a beautifully realised ghost story, and I've very excited to see where you take it.

Damndamndamn, this is astonishingly good,

Your profile suggests that you are open to critique, but while I do like to write lengthy and substantial reviews, including concrit, I'm... sort of finding myself at a loss here. The quality of your writing is superb, the level of detail you've put in (to the blacksmithing segment for example) is astonishing, and just generally there's very very little I can fault here.

It's stunning.

It's pissing me off a little that you've only have five comments on this so far, because if this story if 70k words of this level of quality (and I strongly suspect it is) you deserve so, *so* much more. Because this is fricking wonderful, and I can only wonder at the level of work you've put into it.

[He himself had never taken a stance during the war against the Empire, and Rustleif knew as well as anyone what Skald thought of the Empire. It had surprised him, therefore, when the Jarl had been happy to hear that he was content enough to forge weapons and armor for the Stormcloaks, so long as he could do it for the rest of Dawnstar as well.]

I struggled a bit to follow the reasoning here, and I think the issue lies in the wording of the final sentence. If Skald hates the Empire why would it surprise Rustleif that the Jarl is happy for him to forge weapons for the Stormcloaks?

I think what you're trying to say is that Rustleif is surprised that Skald is happy for him to forge weapons for the rest of Dawnstar so long as he forges weapons for the Stormcloaks as well, but that's not how it reads and it took a few goes for me to figure out what you meant. Just me being dense perhaps? Still I think the order of that final sentence could be flipped around a bit and the wording tweaked to make it clearer.

It's also not immediately clear who 'He himself' refers to. I'm pretty sure it's Rustleif, but it could be Skald too.

[He'd pounded his fist on the barrel where he'd set his meager breakfast here,]

Don't think you need the 'here'

[But for an instant, just before the fog retreated behind him, the aging Nord saw his third odd sight of the day—by far the largest, and the most unbelievable—before it was lost to sight among the giant icebergs and the silver-gray clouds in the distance. It had only been for a moment, but Guthrum's eyes had not yet failed him—he knew what he had seen out there.
It was the bow of a ship.]

Such a creepy ending to the chapter.

So in short I loved this. I love the creepy edge to it, and the ghost story, and the fog. Unearthly fog, ghost ship: yup, I'm pretty much in love with this story.

Interesting plot on this one; I especially like the reference to Countess Carvain and her Akaviri collection. Can't wait to find out what happens next!

So happy to see an update! Looking forward to more- keep up the great work!, and here's hoping for a better 2017 for everyone!

I'm enjoying this story very much and I'm glad to see you updated

Good to see this back!
You really conveyed well how utterly run down Grimnir is in your story, perhaps he should look into lichdom and swap bodies haha!
Very good characters as always.
Great chapter!

godd very eerie! chapter
though, while it could be attested to panic, I would have hoped that the sailors would have either left a note of warning or simply told the guards
Have to say that I am intrigued by the horrors presentation
nice to see that updated after so long!