Skyrim - Much to do in Whiterun

As the gates of Whiterun welcome me once more into the local capital, I breath a sigh of relief, as I imagine must Stenvar. I am carrying a lot of loot from my recent explorations, and anything which proved too much for even my muscle-bound form would be passed to Stenvar to carry - remember, he's a hired mercenary.

A lot of the equipment is weaponry and armour, so I visit Warmaiden's to sell it off. Like any other trader, Ulfberth War-Bear only holds a certain amount of gold, so in order to sell a majority of my gear I need to purchase items from him to balance the books. A lot of arrows have been lost in my recent adventuring, and so I buy large quantities of these for each of our quivers.

I leave the shop and make my way to Breezehome. Even though no one is home to tend it, the firepit still burns well. As I ascend the staircase, I glance over to the still-shut-door of Lydia's room, but quickly steal my eyes back again and walk into my own. The chest in the corner contains a lot of my gains from adventuring, and it is here that I store the remaining items I was unable to sell at Warmaiden's.

While looking through the chest, I decide to pick up large amount of leather and iron ingots which I had stored their previously. I make my way back outside, and, after getting the nod from Adrianne, begin to use the smithing equipment to make iron daggers and leather bracers. As I make each item, I become more and more proficient at it, so that the next item is better than the previous.

Naturally, by the end of all this manufacturing, I am left with a pile of armour and weapons which I have no need for. Luckily for me, Adrianne has a separate purse to Ulfberth, and I am easily able to sell the lot to her. I have no idea how she'll carry it all indoors - I'm barely able to lift the lot myself. But that's her issue, not mine.

I walk up the hill and enter the Temple of Kynareth. The priestess is happy to see me, and even happier to know that I've returned with the sap to help the special tree. She rewards me with gold, but isn't keen on taking back the Nettlebane sword. Fine, I'll hold onto it myself.

All through this conversation, I am waiting for the priestess to ask me about her assistant - after all, he never came back with me from Eldergleam Sanctuary. Maybe she wanted him away, and possibly dead? Either way, not my problem. I leave the temple.

As I begin to head out of Whiterun to begin my adventures once more, I have a quiet word with a little girl who has been bullying a boy. This boy turns out to be the Jarl's son - I fear that by not standing up for himself, this boy will not grow up to be a strong Jarl (assuming the Hold functions under some rudimentary form of hereditary monarchy).

We leave.

Skyrim - A delayed burial

We make our way from Stillborn Cave, still smarting from the wounds and harrowing battles fought in that cold grotto, and head south west, skirting the domain of Windhelm. A couple of wolves are beaten off easily, and some crabs at the side of a river we ford have bravery beyond their stature. Their chitin is taken for use in future alchemical mixtures.

Climbing the banks of the river near Lake Yorgrim, a range of mountains sits between me and Whiterun, forcing Stenvar and I to head west to get there. Without hunting for it, we stumble over the ancient Dwemer remains of Irkngthand. It is a ruined city of grey stone, set into the mountain side as many Dwemer edifices are. Branching between towers are stone walkways, as well as newer, wooden constructions.

The bandits announce themselves with a volley of arrow fire. Though inaccurate, it puts me and Stenvar on the defensive. But we are soon back on the front foot, eliminating each bandit we come to through savagery and cunning. Entry to the interior of the ruins is not available to me - no end of lockpicking results in a floor covered with broken picks. We move on.

On the way, I make yet another discovery - the ancient temple of Korvunjund. Much like many of the other draugr tombs I've frequented, a large exterior extends out, leading to a large metal door for access to the interior. My thirst for exploration isn't into it, and again we get back on our travels.

We finally make it onto the north-south road to Whiterun. Traveling down it, I speak with a rather odd man named Cicero who is standing next to a broken-wheeled cart. He appears to be some form of jester, and also appears to be completely insane. Dragons, bandits and poison-spitting spiders I can take with ease, but the crazed chatter of the mad leave me deeply disturbed.

I agree to help him fix his wheel, and speak with the owner of a nearby farm. The farmer seems very angry with the jester, and finds it absurd that someone would want to bring joy and happiness to these cold lands. I explain to him that he is carrying the body of his dear and departed mother in the back of the cart, and that it would be best to get the cart moving lest the dead and possibly diseased body have negative effects on his crops. The farmer agrees, and when I inform Cicero he is overjoyed.

I quickly depart south, and finally make it to the large wooden gates of Whiterun.

Skyrim - Stillborn Cave

I return to the college at Winterhold to inform the archmage of what occurred at Saarthal. Amazingly, Tolfdir is back before me, and has already found somewhere to house the massive glowing orb I discovered at the aforementioned location. He asks me to study the orb, but I'm up to my armoured shoulderpads with tasks as it is - I'll look into it later.

I head back to Whiterun, a long and arduous journey across the frozen wastes. I choose to navigate around the mountain range clockwise this time, rather than across it, and find myself walking near Windhelm. On the way, a Khajiit randomly leaps out from behind a rock to attack Stenvar and I. Picking over his body, I find no hint as to why he chose to so futilely throw his life away in such a manner. I shrug at the madness of it all, and we traipse on.

I walk past the entrance to Stillborn Cave. Outside, bones of the dead have been arranged to keep explorers away. But none could have foretold the coming of me and my loyal follower Stenvar, and we dive into the darkness of the cave, eager for gold and glory.

The cave quickly changes from rock to pure ice - the walls and chambers carved my the winds of millennia throw the ice of the mountain. My gut tells me that danger lies ahead, but at this point I have no idea how much. But we soon fall into it.

This ice cave is populated by the grey-skinned falmer, humanoid subterranean dwellers who, though blind, can easily seek out invaders of their territory through smell and sound. Individually, they don't prove to be of much trouble to the two of us. But us soon as we come across multiples, things become quite tricky.

The falmer have small camps within the cave which we cleanse with blade and arrow and magic. The difficulty of managing them grows once they introduce the vile chaurus creatures, awful black-carapaced giant insects who throw gouts of poisonous spit our way when we approach. Again, single chaurus' die relatively quickly, but many a potion is required to stay alive amidst waves of the things.

Eventually, the entire cave complex is clear of both falmer and chaurus, and though I pull myself from the subterranean underworld with some treasures and gold, the difficulty and near-death suffered in sequestering them proves a sobering thought - was it all worth it?

Skyrim - Under Saarthal

The door closes behind me, and I find myself stood in a gloomy passageway, the only light coming from a few candles in the distance. Stenvar warns me that there are both treasures and traps in ruins like these - I can tell that he's becoming attached, despite his mercenary nature.

Tolfdir leads us through twisting tunnels, with large chambers setup with tables and chairs for the study of artifacts. Some students from the college sit and attend to various investigations as we work our way through. Tolfdir sets me an easy tasks by asking me to collect a variety of objects from around the main chamber we find ourselves in.

Most of the artifacts come freely, but an amulet I grab traps me behind a thick set of bars which slam shut, holding me tight in a small chamber. Naturally Tolfdir believes me to have touched something I wasn't meant to - he fidgets around for the release, and the trap is released.

He tells me to put the amulet on which I dutifully do, regardless of the fact the last order of his I followed resulted in me incapacitated behind bars with him scalding me. The wall behind where I was trapped begins to glow blue with magic, and I can tell that this isn't something Tolfdir expected. He tells me to cast some magic at the wall, and it breaks, exposing another chamber.

Entering it, I have some sort of... vision. A blue colour is cast around the chamber, and a figure talks to me. Apparently he is from the Psijic Order, which means nothing to me. But he does explain that due to the exploration of Saarthal, certain things have been set in motion and that there is danger. It sounds more like a warning than a threat. After a time, I am left standing there wondering what just happened, and I explain everything to Tolfdir.

Despite the warning, Tolfdir believes we should press on, and he sends me and Stenvar ahead to scout. What we find are draugr, and plenty of them. Most lay in their graves, or stand in burial chambes, only becoming active when I pass nearby. This requires that Stenvar and I sneak along so as not to wake them, for although one draugr is easily despatched, a room full of them is more of a problem. The sneaking allows me to pick the draugr off before they rise with accurate shots from my bow, letting the rest once more.

Some chambers we reach have a set of standing stones in them which are used as a key to access further parts of Saarthal. Though they test my mental fortitude, none present much of a challenge - the prehistoric Nords must have had smaller brains than the cleverer Imperial brain residing in my head.

I reach a large chamber, the largest yet, and am met by the sight of a large glowing orb floating in the middle of the room. It bathes everything in a soft green glow. So awed am I by this that I don't notice the ancient draugr called Jyrik Gauldruson sitting on a throne amongst it all, who dutifully arises to give me a swift seeing to.

Our attacks do not seem to have much of an affect on Jyrik, and it is only when Tolfdir catches up with us that the tide starts to turn. He alters the energy that Jyrik is using from the orb, and my attacks begin to hit home. Soon, the draugr is dead, once more.

While picking his corpse for useful bits, Toldfir tells me that it is vital that this news reaches the arch-mage. Of course this means that I have to head back to the college as soon as I leave Saarthal, but luckily I don't have plans to go anywhere else right now.

As I work my way towards an exit, I find another circular wall and learn yet another dragon word. These things seem to be scattered all over this land - I must find more of them. Stenvar doesn't seem to react at all when the rush of blue words hits me like a wind - does he even see it? We carry on working our way back through the ruins of Saarthal, and emerge into daylight.

Skyrim - The College of Winterhold

I attend my first lecture at the College of Winterhold. Tolfdir, the resident lecturer, rabbits on for a long time about magical application, but the other students are keen on learning something practical. He teaches me a basic ward spell, something to throw up as a shield should other mages use offensive magic on me. It drains my magicka quickly leaving me depleted, but Tolfdir is happy enough with my performance and today's lesson is over. Tolfdir asks me to join him on an exploration of a nearby ruin called Saarthal. I agree and Tolfdir leaves. Nothing is said of Stenvar's presence in the corner of the room.

After speaking with the other students, some of whom have either gotten themselves into a pickle or require my assistance, I exit the college and do what any new student would do after joining - head to the pub. I navigate my way back across the stupidly dangerous bridge, and back into Winterhold proper. As soon as I step off the bridge, the weather turns awful - a veritable blizzard blows through the town. Regardless of this, I run for the inn - The Frozen Hearth.

I speak with a dark elf mage called Nelacar. Apparently, he's a bit of an outsider around here. The Jarl hates the college and mages, thinking them responsible for the calamity which destroyed a large chunk of the town, while the college booted Nelacar from their ranks because some of his experiments went wrong. He doesn't seem overly cut up about it, but I choose not to pry.

I tell him that I have been sent to speak with him by the priestess of Azura. This seems to loosen his tongue somewhat and he tells me about Azura's Star, a strange daedric device used to trap souls. His previous master used to own it, and would experiment on it. This in turn deranged him, and he dragged some of his followers over to Ilinalta's Deep - a sunken fort where I will find the Star. He asks me not to return the Star to the shrine. I thank him for his information and leave.

Stenvar and I make our way out of the town, and head for the ruin of Saarthal. The path we follow is across an open plain of snow, and aside from the odd wolf attack, nothing of note happens in our traversal of it.

Saarthal itself is below the local sea-level, a fundamental design-flaw in my mind, but then I am not an architect. A scaffold of wood-work has been setup to ease the access from here to the main door, and Stenvar and I work our way down until we stand in front of the gates themselves. I know not what awaits us inside, but Tolfdir is already here, and eager for me to get stuck in. I enter the ruin.

Skyrim - Winterhold

As Stenvar and I head back to Winterhold, I spy an encampment up ahead. It appears deserted from a distance, but we approach quietly and with bows drawn. There is no need for this - the camp is a bloodbath of dead hunters. Whoever or whatever did this has long since departed, so I pick my way through the useful stuff. I stumble upon a locked safebox which, with judiciousness use of my lockpick, soon reveals a ring inside. I take it and leave.

The path leads through snowy mountain passes and shows me an impressive sight - Winterhold. From a distance, a large building is visible atop a spike of rock, perched precariously. Only a thin bridge links it to the town below.

We travel down the hill to Winterhold, which is in the depths of a terrible snow storm. The town seems to have suffered some terrible calamity - only a smattering of buildings are intact and upright, surrounded by others which are burnt-out shells. Guards walk up and down the main street.

I enter the Jarl's longhouse, and approach him on his thrown. He is Jarl Korir, and for him to trust me, he sets me a task. I must locate the Helm of Winterhold for him, an ancient horn-adorned helmet which has somehow become misplaced. Despite this, the Jarl is confident of its location which he duly marks on my map. After some uncomfortable moments of the Jarl explaining his disdain for the local college, I leave, promising a swift return of the item in question.

I decide to investigate the building I'd seen from the road. It appears to be the College of Winterhold, a unique place in Skyrim where mages can study unhindered by petty Nord tradition. The college is built on a higher section of ground than the rest of the town, and is reachable via a rather treacherous stonework bridge. To either side is a drop of several hundred feet.

I am but a humble Imperial adventurer, and the thought of at least a basic education is something that has been on my mind for some time. The college's entry conditions seem to be very basic - all I need to do is confirm to them that I am capable of casting some magic. Even though I'm joining "to improve my destruction" (my words, not theirs), the tutor has me cast a magelight illusion spell. This seems to be all that is required, and I am inducted into the ranks of apprentice mages.

I'm given my own room, which is in a roundel of other student rooms. At least I now I have somewhere to stay for free should I return to Winterhold on a regular basis. I meet some of the other characters, all of whom seem to be either socially inept, power-hungry, or too trusting. I think I'll get on just fine here.

Skyrim - The Shrine of Azura

I have to trudge down the mountain a bit before finding a usable path. The snow is falling heavily, the wind not helping by gusting it into flurries, obscuring my vision. Stenvar follows not far behind - he keeps up with me admirably, though complains that he hasn't worn something warmer.

Out of the blizzard appears something definitely made by hands of some sort - it is a Dwemer ruin, Alftand. The Dwemer have long since died out, a race of dwarves who built vast underground cities and utilised technology like no other seen on the surface. I am awed by the view of so much bronze, and such majesty of architecture, but choose to press on up the mountain - I can return to this place at a later date.

We next pass the entrance to a mine, called Sightless Pit. It is aptly named - it is barely viewable from the path. Again, I carry on. Wolves intermittently attack us as we force our way through the freezing air, Stenvar once again reminding me that it is so cold that he can barely hold a weapon. I've paid for his services, so he will go where I go, kill what I say, and put up with whatever the weather chooses to do.

I can see a large statue at the peak of the mountain, barely able to discern detail on the thing. A snow bear takes me by surprise, so well hidden it was by the snow, and so distract was I by the statue. I receive a number of swipes from its claws, then slash my sword across its neck. The beast falls down the slope and drops out of sight. I am not in the mood for harvesting its skin.

The rocks of the mountain begin to funnel us towards the top, and rounding a corner I once more see the statue - it is a woman with outstretched arms, one holding a star, the other a crescent moon. It is the Shrine of Azura, and it is here that I meet a priestess. She is the last of her kind, she says, her name being Aranea Ienith. She has had a vision of an Elven mage in a water-surrounded fort, and wants me to locate him. But I will have to travel to Winterhold first to find out the true whereabouts of this fort.

I step away from the shrine, and we make our way back down the mountain towards Winterhold. En route, I find an old watchtower called Journeyman's Nook. Inside, I discover a bandit who seems quite taken aback by my sudden intrusion, and leaps forward with a mace. I make short work of him with my sword, and return to investigating the building.

It seems as though this place was once home to a mage called Borvil, for I find his grisly corpse on the floor in a pool of blood. An enchanting table sits in the corner, alongside a small library of books, and Borvir's dagger. He won't be needing it anymore, so I take it and get back on the road.

Skyrim - Fort Kastav to Mount Anthor

Fort Kastav is the next destination for me. It sits just north of Windhelm, but Stenvar and I approach it from the east due to our long journey around the river. The fort appears abandoned as we crest the hill in front, but we are soon met by resistance from within the walls.

Necromancers throw various types of magic at me, backed up by some skeletons armed with ancient bows. My arrow shots appear ineffective against the dark mages (though the skeletons go down easily), and with Stenvar already in close combat with them, I join him. Again, another fort soon lies covered in the blood of its former tenants. As an aside, Stenvar says to me that he wonders if we'll find some bandits spitting a rabbit, and a keg of ale. Aim high Stenvar, aim high.

We don't bother to clear out the fort, instead choosing to carry on through the mountain passes to discover more of the land beyond Windhelm. I soon find a narrow hole in the rock, the direly named Stillborn Cave. A snow bear attacks us, obviously waiting for our attention to be diverted. We kill it, and find some unidentified remains nearby. Someone or something met a gruesome end to this beast.

Carrying on up the mountain, I can hear the sound of battle ahead. Through the driving snow, I see a group of men in battle, and one group walks away from the dead of the others. I run up to them, and discover that some Stormcloaks have finished off their Imperial counterparts. The Stormcloaks don't seem concerned with checking the bodies, so I take what I deem useful. Stenvar is useful to have as a beast of burden, though he does expect to be given piles of gold rather than pieces of armour and weaponry.

The snow is incredibly heavy now, leaving the landscape in white or black shades with very little in between. Another depressing scene faces me - what I at first thought was a pile of rock is actually the remains of some refugees, their cart lying smashed at the side of the path. Just like the Stormcloaks, whoever killed these people haven't taken the food and potions scattered on the mountain side.

While I am doing this, I hear the roar of a dragon. I prepare myself for battle, but the beast does not show itself. Either the snow is too thick, or it intends to fight me on better ground. Did these refugees die from dragon fire I wonder?

We trudge on, gradually reaching the summit of the mountain, and it is here that the dragon chooses to attack. It is a Blood Dragon, tougher than the other types I have fought so far in these lands. It doesn't land, instead circling and breathing fire at us as it passes. Stenvar has his bow drawn, as do I, and I use each and every dwarven arrow I have in my quiver to bring the beast down. It crashes into the the snow, burning up in to ash and fire, before its skeleton comes to rest against a rock.

Once more, I pick the useful bits from the carcass, dragon bone and scale proving to be particularly heavy. And once more I employ Stenvar to carry them for me. Around the corner from the dragon fight, I find its roost - Mount Anthor - and pick more treasure from chests and corpses laying scattered. I also find another wall detailing a dragon word, and learn the word for "ice."

Skyrim - Traitor's Post and beyond

We head back to Windhelm to sell some items, the trip is uneventful. Oengul War-Anvil, the blacksmith in Windhelm, is pleased to do business with us. I purchase a new helmet for myself, something befitting Hedron the Collider. It is a masterfully smithed steel plate creation, one which fortifies the alchemy ability of those wearing it. I feel eager to crack out the pestle and mortar.

After a brief wander through the streets, I leave through the front gate with Stenvar in tow. He keeps up with my fast pace well. The snow is falling fast in these parts, I can barely see more than thirty feet in front of me.

What I can see are a smattering of buildings just up from the road we're walking along. It turns out to be a farm, by the name of Brandy-Mug. I have a quick word with the owner, who claims he can grow anything here - I raise an eye brow or two in doubt.

We continue along the road, passing a number of other farms before the path leaves civilisation and weaves into the snow-covered hills. I can see another building in the distance, and on approaching it can see that it has suffered the wrath of the constant-winter. It is a partially-collapsed wooden shack called Traitor's Post, and no sooner have I identified the place than bandits emerge from the place baying for our blood.

The ordinary bandits are dispatched easily, my sword flashing and Stenvar's broadsword crashing. But from behind the building steps a bandit chief who proves to be slightly more difficult. Matters aren't helped by a rogue ice wraith who happens upon our little battle, and my actions become slowed as I absorb shots of ice magic. But eventually, we slay both of them. I slump down into the nearest chair in the shack to recover for a moment.

I stand, and leave the building and dead bandits behind, and we head down the hill to the riverside. I wade across, and Stenvar follows closely. Once across, we head up the mountain, ankle deep in snow. A disturbing sight greets me as I round a bend - a number of bodies are on the road, some appear to be unclothed. A couple of Imperial soldiers step out in front of me, demanding payment in gold. I think that this may be to allow me to pass, and not to become the next person dead on the mountain.

Naturally, I won't be swayed by such mercenary behaviour, not least the war crimes these soldiers seem to have committed. I tell them no, and the leader of the duo attacks me instantly. They are not aware of the prowess Stenvar and I hold in battle, and I slay the leader with a swift side cut to the neck - his head leaves his body, and begins to roll down the slope.

The second soldier is soon slain by Stenvar, so we head up the hill to where I saw the bodies. They also appear to be Imperial soldiers - what actually occurred here, I guess we'll never find out. All original witnesses to this atrocity are no longer alive.

Skyrim - Clearing Morvunskar

I awaken from my slumber in Candleheath Hall, and walk out of my room. The innkepper I met yesterday is still stood behind the bar, displaying not a sign of tiredness. In front of the bar is a table, and at this table is sat a man in armour.

I walk over to him. His name is Stenvar, and he is muscle for hire. The the princely sum of 500 gold, he will follow me. Thanks to yesterday's pugilistic endeavour, I have some money burning away in my pocket. With memories of my old Housecarl fresh in my mind, I decide to hire Stenvar as a follower - he's a mercenary after all. I've walked the cold hills of Skyrim alone for too long. If anything, he'll provide some useful extra carrying capacity for me while we clear out forts.

To this end, we leave Windhelm together and head back up to the fort of Morvunskar once more. I'd only cleared out the area outside the fort - now that I have backup, I'll be a lot more comfortable heading into the fort itself.

As we approach the fort, Stenvar says how he always wished for a fort of his own as a child. I can tell he's going to be chatty, despite being paid for. The outside of the fort is still littered with the corpses of those I had slain previously, yet he mentions nothing of this - death obviously has no impact on him.

The interior of the fort doesn't prove as easy as the exterior. Mages fill all rooms, and all are of a very high level. Frost magic is used in abandon against us, and I am forced to use potions of health just to stay upright. But once we get close, the mages are not able to suffer many hits from our blade.

Stenvar favours double-handed weapons, and swings his steel broadsword wide. Mages fall within a couple of strikes of his heavy metal, and I hack away with my blade too.

Soon, the fort is cleared, and both of us are still standing. I am impressed with Stenvar's resilience and power in battle - he will prove useful in the battles to come.

We exit the cave, and make our way back down the road that leads up the hill to the fort. At the bottom, I pass a group of four men, who only seem to realise who I am when I have passed. They attack us, but are obviously not up to speed on how well I excel in close combat. All are slain.

I check the bodies of all of them for gold and some such, and discover a note - it is signed Lars Battle-Born, and it describes orders to have me killed. The Battle-Borns are a family in Whiterun. I will be having words next time I see them.

Skyrim - Windhelm

I turn away from the fort of Morvunskar, and walk towards the edge of the hill it is built upon. In front of me, I see Windhelm, a large town on the shore of a slow and wide river.

I travel down to the town, across a small bridge and along a road. Windhelm is only accessible via a large fortified bridge, so I have to once more cross the river to get to it. As I approach the bridge, I notice an encampment of Khajiit next to the Windhelm stables.

The Khajiit are a strange humanoid cat-people, and though their language and custom is different from mine, I approach and we trade with each other. Throughout, the merchant named Ma'dran remains cross-legged in front of his animal skin tent.

Windhelm is a big place, encircled by a large stone wall. The snow snow falls around me as I cross the bridge, passing numerous guards on the way. My entrance to the town is via a tall metal door, which I enter without any fuss made. I'd have thought the conjurer blood dousing me would have made them think twice.

Inside, I speak with the towns folk. By the sound of things, the dark elves are not universally liked here, and their kind appear to have been forced into a shantytown ghetto. Why they are so hated, I have yet to find out, but I am not comfortable with this unabashed racism.

As I work my way through town, I remind myself that a child called Aventus Arentino lives here. He left the orphanage in Riften, intent on finding the Dark Brotherhood assassins guild to murder the old hag who ran the place. One of the other workers in the orphanage told me about this, and she wants me to ensure he doesn't act irrationally. In all honesty, I don't blame him - I've met the hag too, and she is a nasty piece of work.

My excellent tracking skills soon lead me to the house where Arventus is living. He has locked the front door, so I have to use a lockpick to carefully let myself in. The house is dusty, filled with cobwebs, and I find him in the main room, surrounded by candles and some bones - he is clearly a very disturbed child.


As I approach him, I can here him reciting the Black Sacrament, the verse used to draw the Dark Brotherhood to a person. He turns to face me, and rather than being scared by a strange adult breaking into his house, is genuinely excited to see me. He believes that I have been sent from the brotherhood, to answer his prayer for the hag at the orphanage to me murdered.


Of course I am not, but he won't listen to me, and insists that I leave quickly to begin my mission. He seems safe enough here on his own, so I nod slowly, and walk backwards and out of the crazy boy's home.


I'm feeling tired by this point, it's been a long day. So I enter the Candlehearth Hall, a large inn in the middle of the town. A warm fire burns, and the innkeeper is hospitable. But before I can ask her for a bed for the night, a drunk approaches me, and challenges me to a fight.


He doesn't really stand a chance. I punch him again and again and again, and he is soon on the floor asking for mercy. I give it to him, and he gives me some gold. Not that I asked for it. If anything, it'll pay for me rest, and then some.


I return to the innkeeper, and she shows me to my room. I thank her, close the door, and am asleep before my head hits the pillow.

Skyrim - Northward bound

Leaving the cave of Eldergleam as the sun begins to set, I head for the north into lands cold but new to me. Passing once more over the blasted landscape of thermal vents and bubbling shallows, I skirt an encampment theatrically called Broken Limb Camp - a place of giants. They beat their clubs against the ground in warning, one which I am all too eager to listen to.

After the surprise spriggan attack earlier in the day, one would think I would want to keep my head above ground for a while. However, the loss of Lydia still haunts me, and I see my own life as cheap - the potential danger of cave-based combat means nothing to me.

Yet despite this I do no enter. I continue north, following a river and soon see a dilapidated shack lying on the shoreline. A sign proclaims this place to be called Riverside, which in all honesty it is. I find no find evidence that someone or something is using this as its home, so with the rapidly fading light choose to set up camp for the evening. I find sleep quickly.

I awake and head for the opposite bank of the river. It is flowing slowly, so I fair well in my crossing. On the beach, I hear a bear growl close by, and by survival instinct kicks in - I bring my sword out, and get down into a crouch. Sneaking up the bank, I see not only a bear, but also a huge giant. They are both involved in mortal combat, and as expected, the bear loses. I wait until the giant wanders off before taking the dead beast's claws.

All around me are thermal vents, and tucked between them are large deposits of iron and corundum. Placing my sword back in it's scabbard, and instead produce my pickaxe and mine each rich seam I come to. Soon my pack is laden with large amounts of ore, and I set out once more on exploration.

The vents have now vanished, to be replaced by cold rock and snow. A hill rises in front of me, and I can see the remains of a fort build atop it. My curiosity gets the better of me, and I ascend with great swiftness to see what this place may be.

The fort is called Morvunskar, and is populated by a large amount of conjurers. None of them seem keen on showing me their magic tricks, though many do chose to display their mastery of ice and lightning magic. For this insolence alone, I end all of those on the outskirts of the fort with my trusty bow and sword. I'll return for the others another day.

Skyrim - Strange occurances at Eldergleam Sanctuary

Through a shimmering cave entrance, the rock walls slick with water, I find myself on a trail leading off towards some light. As the cave opens, I stare up in awe at the beauty of nature in front of me. Grass stretches off into the distance, flowers burst from every available nook, a stream trickles quickly from a waterfall bursting from a small hill contained within the cave. And on top of the hill lies the Eldergleam tree itself, it's leaves a delicate pink.

A woman walks on the lush grass just down from the tree hillock, her name is Asta. She looks at me, armed with the strangely twisted blade of Nettlebane, and asks what I am doing in Eldergleam Sanctuary. So I tell her - I have been sent here to take a slice out of this big old tree to fix another tree in Whiterun. She is aghast at this, and begs me not to harm the tree. This woman is obviously some rural type who has no appreciation for urban redevelopment for the sake of public mental well-being.

I walk off towards the path which will lead me up the hill, and spot another human within the glade. He is sitting at the edge of the grass, with his feet dangling in the crystal waters of the stream. He has nothing to say to me, and I leave him to his quiet procrastination.

The path progresses up the hill quite steeply, and I would reach the top quickly were it not for the large roots extending down over the way. Fire magic does nought, though swift stabs with Nettlebane soon make the roots pull back as if in shock. I don't find this weird at all - afterall, though well watered from below, this huge old tree is growing quite successfully in a cave with very sporadic light.

The top of the hill is essentially just tree, with gentle light filtering down through a hole in the roof of the cave. I nonchalantly shimmy over to the main bough, and give it a quick nick with the blade to nab some sap. And then things turn strange...

A small whirlwind forms nearby, drawing leaves up from the ground to form a tree-like entity known as a spriggan. It doesn't try to speak to me, or merely eject me from what I assume to be its home - all it tries to do is kill me with strange magic and sharp wooded talons. I throw fire magic at it, and hit it with Nettlebane, theorising that it won't like either of these implements of death. And soon enough it is dead, and I am harvesting "tap root" from it's remains.

Heading back down the hill to exit the glade with my bounty, I can see several more of the creatures guarding the way out. To my horror Asta is lying dead on the grass. You'd think I'd blame myself, but she could have tried to stop me or at least get out of the cave before I stabbed the tree. I get the impression that this is where she would have wanted to die anyway.

I swap my blade for fire bow and arrow, and apply copious amounts of weakness-to-fire potions to my arsenal. These arrows mortally wound the spriggans, though some are tougher than others, and I again harvest their damaged bodies for things of worth.

I step over the man who was until recently bathing his feet, and burst out into the daylight.

Skyrim - Off to Eldergleam Sanctuary

Eldergleam is a fair distance from Whiterun, so I have plenty of opportunity for thought while walking. I spot some flowers ahead, butterflies touching the leaves delicately. I pick both the flora and insects for future alchemy, having to jump for some of the butterflies to reach them in the air. I'd feel like a child again if it wasn't for my deep remorse over the death of Lydia.

I am being followed by Maurice, who is on a pilgrimage to the same glade as me. He keeps up admirably, but frankly I'm not going to wait for him. I think he knows there is no love lost between us, he chooses not to engage in conversation when approached.

I see a figure at the side of the road, and approach him with blade raised. He doesn't attack, instead calls me over. He is an aspiring mage, sells me his "staff of reanimation" because he doesn't think he's cut out for maging. In actual fact, he just doesn't know how to recharge a magical weapon. But I decide that this staff may end up being dangerous in his hands, and take it off him for a song.

I continue along the road, which follows the natural path of a river as it cuts its way down the valley. A couple of wolves attack us as we round a bend - being the mighty adventurer I aim, I naturally find myself armed with sword and fire magic. But Maurice is a mere temple apprentice, and valiantly tries to injure the creatures with his bare fists.

I kill both the animals, and Maurice is beaten but alive. I dare not show any concern; he knows what he's gotten himself into. The path begins to switchback down a steep hill, so I take an extreme short cut - off the path and down a rocky slope. It appears too steep for Maurice to follow, and I soon lose track of him. Oh well, if he was really into the adventuring thing he would have brought some appropriate footwear with him.

The path continues to follow the existing river, but the rest of the landscape has morphed from the moor-like rolling steppe of Whiterun to a blasted post-apocalyptic environment of salt springs and geysers. Vapour hangs over the landscape, and shallow pools bubble away with potential energy,

I can see the entrance to Eldergleam ahead, what looks to be a cave. But I can also see one of my winged nemeses as well, and the dragon soon spies me too. As it wheels towards me, I already have my bow to hand, rubbing copious amounts of poison on the first arrow to give the dragon something to think about.

It hovers above me, great gusts of wind and dust beaten by its leathery wings only made worse by the gout of flame searing me from its gaping maw. A great number of arrows have left my quiver, and the dragon finds itself unable to hold itself aloft any longer. Bereft on the ground, it succumbs to heavy slices with my sword. Its life gone, the dragon rolls down to the bottom of the hill. As per usual, it disappears in bright fire, and I take what I can of it's bones and scales, soul absorbed.

Maurice is no where to be seen. I assume he has either returned to Whiterun, or succumbed to wolf attack. I really do not care - it was his choice to come along. I take one last look at the departed reptile, and walk into the cavernous entrance to Eldergleam Sanctuary.

Skyrim - Lydia-less

With Lydia no longer at my side, I drift down the mountain as if in a dream. A landmark comes into view, an abandoned watchtower called South Skybound Lodge. Without my erstwhile follower, I sneak into the empty tower. I find a chest and a spider, which proves easy prey.

I am aiming for Whiterun, but find myself in the vicinity of Riverwood. I don't mention Lydia to anyone, and no one asks. I worry that her impact on this world wasn't as great as it was on my heart.

I enter Lucan Valerius' shop, and find him knocking things over. I imagine if I were to do the same, he wouldn't be too happy - his shop, his rules evidently. The golden chicken foot I brought back for him days ago is now displayed proudly on the counter. I sell a few things, lighten my load for the trek back to Whiterun. I leave without much of a chat.

The journey is uneventful, and I enter Breezehome. I store the items I took from Lydia in the chest next to my bed, as they will come in useful in the future. I walk back across the floor to where Lydia's room is. I take one last look at the tidy quarters, before shutting the door forever. This was her home, and I'll be damned if anyone else will ever enter that room.

Grasping Nettlebane, the magical blade I was tasked with procuring, I walk up the hill to the Temple of Kynareth. Walking through the door, I present it to the priestess. But she is wary of it, and does not seem keen to use it. She asks me to visit a glade and cut another big tree to get her some sap to fix the tree outside. I'm beginning to feel like the sap here - sure, she's dealing with a lot of sick and wounded, but there are other things I need to be getting on with.

I accept, and go to leave. Before I can, an acolyte called Maurice asks if he can come along with me, in pilgrimage to the Eldergleam Sanctuary where I am heading. After the hurt of Lydia's death, I am tempted to tell him to stay put, that death follows me around like a bad smell. But he is quite insistent. I tell him he can come along, but give no promises on his safety. Skyrim has already proven to me how cheap life is in the wilderness.

I look into another matter before leaving Whiterun - a man from House Gray-Mane is missing, presumed dead. The Gray-Manes belief House Battleborn has something to do with it, and so they have tasked me with finding evidence that proves this. I walk into the main abode of House Battleborn, brazen. Almost instantly I spot an out of place diary on some drawers next to a bed. Inside are details to where the Gray-Mane is being held - he's alive! As I pocket the book, I hear an old woman say "I saw what you did."

Turning around, a Whiterun town guard has been called due to my theft. But I placate him - I am a Thane of Whiterun, and certain leniency is granted to me. I'm not sure how far I can go with this, but the feeling of power is dizzying.

I return to the Gray-Mane with the book. She is terrified that I won't be able to release him, that I'd require an army to do so. I tell her that I will take care of things, without bloodshed (though we both know this won't happen).

I leave Whiterun with Maurice in tow, and head for the mysterious glade of Eldergleam Sanctuary.

Skyrim - Life

Life. That is the word that greets me as we slowly leave the unending snows.

Life.

The winter landscape that we have lived in for so long gives way to scattered pockets of greenery. Life returns to the hillside, and not just in what I see - my heart is full of it. Whether it is the view of foxes chasing rabbits, the lush smattering of colour on mountain flowers, or Lydia bounding down after me, I cannot say. Either way, it is a beautiful day, and I'm glad to be enjoying it with her.

On our travel across the range, we have encountered many types of life. From the low-life bandits, wildlife of wolves and bears, to the undead life of the draugr, we think we have seen it all. But the wispmother is a surprise to us both.

A green clearing forms in front of us, with trees in view. Yet it is not the green which has drawn my eye, but the odd transparent blue floating woman burning into my retina from the other side of the clearing. Ice magic is soon thrown at us, and I immediately swallow a couple of potions to help resist this cold magic.

Lydia has her sword and shield raised, and runs towards the shimmering blues. A strange row of ice forms on the ground between me and the wispmother, the creature Lydia has sought to kill, and out of the ice leap three ice wraiths. Their only mission is to sink teeth into my soft imperial body, to protect their matriarch.

I resort to fire magic to deal as much damage to the living ice as possible, while thrashing away like a madman with my sword - all pretense of swordsmanship vanishes in that blur of metal. One by one I am smiting the things, all the while downing further potions to maintain my health and stamina.

It is a hard fight. I can see Lydia smashing away at the wispmother. She is the goddess of death. I can image a grin of hatred and satisfaction and admiration and longing and happiness displayed on her face, hidden behind that dwarven bronze helmet, yet in clear evidence in her action. It is the fight of her life, the fight that any young Housecarl would fantasise about while stuck in Whiterun.

I join Lydia in the fight, again hoping that my fire will reduce this thing to something approximating death. We are having an affect - it rapidly retreats from us, and we are eager to give chase. All the while it continues to spew frost magic at us, and all the while I hit it again and again and again.

The wispmother's life soon leaves it, and I am left standing over the odd corpse of this most strange of mountain denizens. "Yes, yes!" I cry. "We've done it!!" I turn to face Lydia. But I cannot see her. Not right away.

Close by she lays, face down. In the dirt. She does not move, does not make a sound, does not share in my fading celebration.

Life. Life is fleeting. And life is cheep in Skyrim.

I move over to her, afraid to touch her. She is so peaceful, so at peace with this world that has sort to damage her on so any occasions. The adrenalin of battle has been replaced by a feeling of absolute and crushing shock. I stand for minutes staring at her corpse, unable to move or even contemplate moving. Events past this moment wither out of existence.

After what seem like hours pass, I move closer, and turn her so that she can at least face the sun. I don't have the words to say to her, the feelings I have or had for her stick in my throat. I know what I must do, and it tears me apart to do it.

I take that of use from her - the dwarven helmet, the shield, and some gold and arrows. But I leave her on that mountain with her armour and her sword. I leave her as she would want to be remembered. A warrior. And a beautiful woman. 

I leave.

Skyrim - Calm descent

When morning comes, we set out back along the path. It is gradually leading us back down the mountain, but snow covered peaks are still in abundance. Hungry wolves snap at Lydia and I from time to time; their diet must be limited at this altitude, and they know not of the danger they face when hungrily approaching the two of us.

I fondly recall our battle against the bitter Hagraven and her minions the day before. We gelled so well that day, with Lydia taking the fight to the enemy, and me working my way around to snuff out the evil life at the top of the rock. Though hard-fought, we were victorious in a way we hadn't managed before.

Lydia walks a few steps behind me as we progress, and a smile creeps onto my face. We can't really discern each others looks due to the heavy armour covering both of our faces, but I know she smiles back. I can see Lydia remaining my Housecarl for a long while yet. Maybe she'll be something more one day? But that's for another day. In the meantime, we just enjoy the gentle stroll in the crisp mountain air.

I stumble upon a building constructed right on the edge of a mighty crevasse, a high arch visible before the rest of the stonework. The place is called North Skyward Watch, clearly some form of imperial watch tower.

I approach it without my usual reticence, seeing little of life around it. Nevertheless, I am soon met at the entrance-way by a couple of bandits intend on bashing my head in with iron maces. Lydia fires iron arrows into the narrow door, and helps me end them quickly. They aren't the thugs and outlaws we've previously tussled with, just your run-of-the-mill bandits.

The dead bandits have little of worth stored in the watch - a table contains their coin-purses, some almost-worthless potions, and a chest with a bit more gold in it. Other than that, the only luxury they've afforded themselves are a couple of wolf-skin beds.

I take one last look at the place, then we return to the path to continue our traipse down the mountain.

Skyrim - Battle at Orphan's Rock

A lake comes into view as we descend back down the mountain from Helgen. I walk over to it, and decide that with all the hubbub I've been through of late, that I deserve a dip.

The water is freezing cold, Lydia cleverly remains on the shore. I dive down into the depths. On the bottom, I find a sunken boat - its former occupants nowhere to be seen. Whoever they are, they left behind their chest of goodies -  stuff my pockets with what I can before surfacing and returning to the shore.

My quest still uncompleted, I resume my search for the magic blade which the priestess in Whiterun was after to fix the tree. The weather has turned from snow to rain, all around I am surrounded by dripping trees and grey rock. I wouldn't call it foreboding - there are just nicer places I'd rather be right now.

I can see a cleft of rock jetting out of a nearby hill - it is here, I work out, that I will find the blade. The priestess had said something about it being dangerous around these woods, but again I hadn't really listened to her. After all, a priestess is going to find most things outside the comfort zone of the  shrine to be a bit dodgy isn't she?

I wish I had heeded her warning, as moments later we are under attack from mages seemingly from all quarters. All forms of magic are lashing the ground around Lydia and I - fire, ice, even electrical. Lydia runs into the fray after loosing a volley of arrows, her sword flashing blows on the mages.

I try to follow her in, but someone or something else is throwing heavier magic at me. Large explosions rock the narrow valley we find ourselves in. I have no idea where they are coming from, or even what is capable of magic of such magnitude.

The mages are suffering a sound thrashing from Lydia, who is once more reveling in bloodshed. I finish off a few of them, dashing between outcrops of rock to prevent the magic expert from getting a bead on me. I'm feeling a bit strange - the near constant barrage, and the need to down potion after potion just to remain upright has left me somewhat light-headed.

A path is visible up to the outcrop of rock, and I make a dash for it. An ugly creature is at the top, in the middle of a savage encampment called Orphan's Rock. It is a hagraven, a disgusting cross between woman and bird. It is this which has been causing me so many problems. I apply some poison to my blade to stem the creatures magicka, as well as taking copious amounts of magical protection potions myself.

My blade swipes again and again at the evil harridan, and eventually I am left stood over the dead creature. Searching the body, I find the blade which the priestess was after - Nettlebane. It is made from a dark metal, and is dull in the afternoon gloom. I slip it into my pack.

The battle has been won, and now I allow myself the blessed luxury of sleep. I enter the cleanest tent I can find, and close my eyes for hours.

Skyrim - Ancient's Ascent

Though still chilly, the mountain air is welcome respite from the cold breeze of Bonehill Passage. It is early evening by now, and the sun creeping towards the horizon is beginning to turn the snow a gentle salmon pink.

The pathway leads us further up the mountain, the sides lined by alpine trees and sharp rocks. I spot some signs of ancient construction - walls and cut stones. Maybe we're nearing a tomb or an ancient ruin? Rounding a corner, the pathway opens up.

My voice catches in my throat as I glance up and see incoming doom. A dragon screeches, and both Lydia and I stumble with the volume of noise. It passes us many times, spewing flame at us as we fire arrows skyward.

I run toward a nearby stack of rocks in the hope of giving myself cover, but Lydia... Lydia remains in the open. She is shining, replete in her armour, flame licking at her from the flying beast. The dragon lands in the centre of the mountainous arena and tries to take bites of of Lydia. And yet she still stays put, sword now drawn.

I am throwing arrows doused with poison at the dragon, and a final flight of orcish arrows puts the thing to rest. It collapses on the ground, its incredible weight no longer supported by the once living muscles of my reptilian opponent.

The death of a dragon is an awe-inspiring sight. As the life leaves its body, the scales begin to glow with ruddy heat, and soon they are alight with magical fire. Flakes of ash are blown away from the massive skeleton of the creatures by the valley wind, lifted to the heavens.

And another wind builds up, one which builds and builds, pulling the dragon's soul into my very fibre. I'm left with a feeling of intense strength, but also massive loss. I whisper silent prayers to the departed creature, before taking that of use from its remains.

I turn to face the rest of the ruins, and see a circular wall, very similar to that seen earlier in Dustman's Cairn. A similar wind to the dragon soul builds around me, and a strange text in blue glows on the wall. I gain another shout, but do not have the knowledge to use it.

The path we followed here leads no further, so we turn back the way we came and head back through the ice cave, and down the path through Helgen. Soon another fort is within view, this one southeast from the destroyed town, named Fort Neugrad. Bandits walk its perimeter. Lydia and I walk on past - we will clear it another day.

Skyrim - Up to Bonehill Passage

The road into the mountains continues to weave upwards, and soon the weather turns chill. Snow covers all surfaces, and I can barely make out the road. Up ahead lies a familiar place. Have I been here before?

Yes, yes I have - for this town is Helgen, the town where I started this little adventure. Broken towers and burning pyres lie behind the walls of the destroyed town. I try to find a way in, but all the gates are locked. Some deft lock picking eventually opens the portal, and the doors swing open.

Anger and retribution rise in my throat like bile, as more vile bandits inhabit this murdered town. What level will these animals stoop to? Without a second throught for mine or Lydia's safety, I dash into combat with the nearest bandit, mad with bloodlust.

They seem to be coming out of the stonework itself, more and more of the feral men and women charging at me. Blades flash, and magic pulses across the wasted town, as Lydia pulls arrow after arrow from the quiver on her back and fires them into the pack.

I charge ahead, through broken homes, and finish each bandit off with gusto. I survey the devastation around me - bandit corpses lie scattered across the wrecked town, and blood seeps into the white snow floor.

I quit Helgen in disgust, and we continue our slog along the cold road. What appears to be a cave comes into view ahead of me, but not the normal rocky formation we have explored before. This is an ice cave called Bonehill Passage, the very walls formed from glacial ice. Lydia wonders aloud on what could be inside. We enter to find out.

A chill blows continuously through cave, the likes of which I have never felt. The heavy armour does nothing to warm me, the cold metal conducting the chill straight to my flesh. I spy bones littering the floor. Sounds of wildlife travel down the passage as we ascend up an ice bridge, the roar of a bear. I edge my way forward, suspicious that any noise will bring the creature upon us.

But it is an ambush. Despite my wariness, an ice wraith has crept up behind us and begins attacking. I drink potions of resist frost and strengthen my magicka, and I throw fire balls at the denizen until it moves no more.

The noise of our surprise draws a snow bear out of its lair further up the passage, and we slice again and again at the creature. It falls into the ice - no doubt its corpse will remain here for hundreds of years, desiccated by the intense cold wind blowing through the cave.

I find the exit to the cave, and we push our way out and back into the daylight of the mountainside.

Skyrim - Up into the mountains

A Companion named Vilkas meets Farkas and I outside the meeting hall. He leads as around the back of the building - I guess he doesn't want us traipsing our muddy boots through the hall. In fact, I am inducted into the Companions, and all because I brought back the Fragment of Wuuthrad.

Filled with hubris, I listen to my next assignment, but choose to not understand - I'll come back to them later. For now, I'm quite happy to walk around Whiterun with the town knowing that I am a Thane as well as a Companion.

 I deposit some items back at Breezehome, and get Lydia back on board. She seems keen for some adventure - so would I if I'd been stuck in this boring home of mine for days. No wonder I spend all of my time out in the country, battling bandits and dragons alike.

We exit the town, and I choose to lead Lydia on a quest to retrieve a magical blade for the priestess of Kynareth. It's right there on my "list of things to do" labeled "fix dead tree." Of course, it isn't a simple case of walking out of Whiterun and tripping over the blade, so I begin our rather circular trek into the mountains. Discovery is still very much the buzz word.

Lydia keeps the pace well, already I am impressed with her zeal. I enter the the village of Riverwood, where a lot of my old friends no longer seem to recognise me. Has my face become swollen with endless bashes from the denizens of Skyrim? Has my voice changed because I've been breathing strange fumes in mines? Where once they claimed that it everyday was a good day with me around, now they only grunt in acknowledgment.

Maybe its Lydia. Maybe Faedal has returned to Riverwood and spread bad word about her. We left on such good terms. I banish the thought from my head. I sell some gear, and we move on.

The road out of Riverwood snakes up into the mountains, and a bandit encampment comes into view. They don't seem to have notice us approaching, so giving Lydia a quick wink (I know she sees it, regardless of the heavy armour obscurring my eyes) we sneak towards them. When I'm in range, I stand up, and they are taken by surprise.

"Get out of here" one says, another growls "You'll do what's best for you." Which I do. We unsheathe our swords and remove the bandits from their mortal coils. Lydia seems to be relishing the attack, it breathes life into her.

I have a look around the camp and nab what I can carry. Spying a table and chair at the edge of camp, I sit down and take in the view of the valley. Birds sing, and I can barely hear the gurgle from cut-bandit throats over the gurgle of the river.

Skyrim - Dustman's Cairn

Dustman's Cairn is very similar to the other tombs I've entered so far - rows of shelves carved into the stone walls house ancient Nord bodies in various stages of decomposition. Farkas seems keen on running ahead, though he has to stop often to wait for me to catch up. It's not me being slow ( and I resent the implication), I'm just clinically searching every urn and body that we pass for treasures to fund my adventuring.

It doesn't take long before some of the Draugr arise from their somewhat incorrectly described "eternal slumber." Farkas proves to be an immense warrior, and rarely needs my assistance in putting the Draug back to rest. Whether this will impinge on the report for my trial is unknown at this time.

We soon find that the Draugr are not alone in the cairn - few Whights rear their very ugly and decompsing heads. I'm no anthropologist, but in my limited contact with the Draugr, I believe them to be the hoi-polloi of this society, and the Whights to be their betters. I might be wrong, it has happened on a handful of occasions.

Skeevers also run around these dark halls, but they prove of little entertainment to Farkas and I - a single sweep from either of our blades ends them in an instant.

We enter a large room, where I spot a lever in a small ante-chamber. I absent-mindedly pull on it, and a gate swings shut. "I have the worst luck" I think to myself. But then Farkas is approached by almost a dozen bandit-types calling themselves Silver Hand warriors. It looks like this is the end of our very brief friendship, but then something curious and strange occurs - Farkas turns into a slavering beast. The Silver Hands don't seem perturbed in the slightest, and carry on trying to have at him. This beast-that-was-Farkas jumps on them all, killing each and every one of them.

He disappears around a corner, and comes back as a human after pulling another lever to open the gate and release me. We have a little chat about what I just saw. He isn't embarrassed by the bestial display, and tells me that this is what can happen to the upper "Circle" of Companions. He doesn't even swear me to silence. Not that anyone would believe me. Although Lydia might.

We walk into an even larger room than the last after navigating a series of skeever infested tunnels. Obsidian coffins line the walls, clearly filled with more Draugr ready to awaken and feast on our flesh. Yet they stay put for now. As we progress through the room, stairs lead us up to an altar where in plain site, I spy the fragment I'd been tasked to acquire.

Already knowing that picking this chunk of cut rock up would raise the dead, I begin to charge my firebolt spell. Then, while doing so, I reach across and put the fragment into my pack.

Crash. A number of stone coffin lids fall open, and the Draugr advance on me and Farkas from all sides. Flame shooting from my hands, Farkas engaging them with sword, we best them swiftly. Even the Restless Draugr and Draugr Wights are no match for our combined arms.

The battle is soon over, with undead corpses lining the stone floor. I do a quick search of the chamber for more treasure - those Ancient Nords knew how to send their dead off in style, and I find plenty of gold and jewels. Turning my attention back to the altar, I notice a large semi-circular carved wall.

Things go a bit funny for a minute, as my vision blurs and a great gust of wind and knowledge hit me. I have learnt a new dragon word it seems - my head buzzes with "Fire Breathe". There is an exit to the upper world just behind the wall, and Farkas and I ascend it and head back to Whiterun to deliver the fragment to the Companions.

Skyrim - Fun on the road to Dustman's Cairn

Farkas and I go our separate ways once we leave the gates to Whiterun. "Meet me at Dustman's Cairn" he says, and runs off into the wild. Why do people do this to me, after all the good I've done for this world?

Knowing that Farkas won't enter the cairn without me being there (it's my trial to join the Companions afterall), I take the less than direct route there. I marvel at the wonders of nature - I shoot arrows through the hearts of wolves, I pick wild flowers for future use in my alchemical potions, I snatch butterflies out of the air, and I watch a herd of mammoths amble by.

So preoccupied am I by these displays, that I only notice a dragon is on me when it hits the ground in a great gust of wind, dust and bad breath. As with my previous altercations with the winged beasts, I am as far away from civilisation as I can get - and without Lydia, it really is just me versus the beast.

Or at least I think that's the case, as rather than coming to bite my head off, the dragon turns its attention to the mammoths. Regardless of the volume of poisoned dwarven arrows I pump into its leathery hide, the dragon maintains the viscous battle of winged-reptile versus furry-mammal. It manages to bring down on of the tusked leviathans, but I get the final word in with a swift arrow to the neck.

It collapses to the ground, and begins to burn to ash. I take what I can from the battlefield - dragon scales, some of its bones, a few of the arrows I'd loosed, and of course some bits from the mammoth.

I think about lugging these animal parts all through the cairn I'm heading to, and decide that these items would work better placed in a chest in my home. So I return briefly to Whiterun, and dump a large amount of my booty into Breezehome. I'll return at a later date and decide what to do with it all.

The killing of the dragon seems to have awakened the hunter in me, and when I leave Whiterun's gates once more, I set out to hunt a few wolves and elk. Their skins will be used to assist me with my smithing techniques through the future production of leather items.

I reach the outskirts of Dustman's Cairn after passing the remnants of the dragon battle, and am immediately ambushed by skeletons - if Farkas is already here, he's either a very bad scout or set this up as an initiation for me. It seems as though the skeletons are coming out of the very stonework itself. They are ineffective against my warrior instinct - not one makes it within a distance to inflict harm on me, as I pick them off in turn with simple iron arrow efficiency.

In finally make it to the entrance to the cairn. Farkas is there, but says nothing about the skeletons. I begin to doubt his competency. With a simple nod to each other, I crack open the iron doors and we enter the mound to begin my trial.

Skyrim - Smithing in Whiterun

It turns out that the magic blade I took from the bandit chief in the fort earlier in the day is actually the family heirloom of an Amren in Whiterun. Returning to Whiterun from our recent reconnoiter, I instantly begin my search for the Redguard.

Amren is very grateful for the return of this sacred sword, and gives me lessons in one-handed combat techniques, free of charge. Of course, future ones will cost me gold, but his tutelage is excellent. I'll be going back for more when my coin stretches that far.

Due to my recent mining, I have a large haul of iron ore sitting in my pack. It weighs heavily on my mind, and my back. On previous visits to Whiterun, I've done some smithing at Warmaiden's, the armoury shop run by Adrianne Avenicci. She is appreciative of my skills, my yearning for further knowledge of the smithing art. She lets me use her equipment pro bono.

First, the smelter. This melts down the chunks of iron ore into iron ingots. All I have to do is shovel enough coal in to keep the fire hot enough to melt the raw ore. With these new ingots, I walk over to the smith and start to hammer out some iron helmets and iron daggers. The daggers only need iron ingots, but the helmets require some leather straps to keep them on heads. I've already got some leather, I just need to cut it into strips at the tanning frame.

I could sell my newly-built battle equipment now, but I'll make more money by improving my already excellent work. I sharpen the daggers, and improve the helmets further on the workbench before walking into Warmaiden's.

I buy some more arrows and other bits from the humourously named Ulfberth War-Bear. He is somewhat bearish in build, and sports the best beard I've seen in Whiterun. He doesn't seem to mind at all that I've used his tools to make the very items I'm selling to him.

Leaving Warmaiden's, I walk up to the Companion's headquarters of Jorrvaskr. I speak with a variety of people in there. In all honesty, they're all quite similar. Maybe I should learn their names if I want to join them, which I do. They accept me on board, despite my badness with faces.

I'm told that my first quest for them is to travel to Dustman's Cairn, a lovely pit of undeath located near to Whiterun, and retrieve the "Fragment of Wuuthrad." I don't really know what I'm looking for, but luckily another Companion called Farkas is assigned as my "Shield Brother." I'm trying to take all this information in, its all a bit cliquey.

Of course, with Farkas as my new battle-brother, I am forced to leave Lydia back at Breezehome. She's doesn't seem too bothered by this, just goes to sit in her room and have a sleep. With that, Farkas and I turn for the door, and head for Dustman's Cairn.

Skyrim - Lydia, my Housecarl

With Lydia as my new follower, we depart Whiterun for some trial exploration. Though she seems knowledgeable in the ways of the world around the town, it will be interesting to see how she fares away from her comfort zone.

I kit her out in the same armour and weaponry which had previously belonged to Faedal. Amazingly, it all fits - clearly Nord women are built in a very similar way to elf males. She chooses to wear the steel helmet I give her, which is unfortunate, as I won't be able to see the expressions on her face. I know that Lydia is loyal to me, being a Housecarl of Whiterun, but her back-chat has an air of aloofness to it.

We head west - so far, I have only really explored the west of Skyrim. In the midst of a barren waste, the first location we come to is a fort by the name of Greymoor. Like most forts I've found, it looks uninhabited, though is actually filled to the ramparts with bandits. They have even made it look like more dwell there by making mannequins from pieces of wood and old armour. These are difficult to make out, as the sun has set.

Lydia and I leap into action, with her firing arrows into the crowd and me slicing them with my sword. Soon, the only sound we hear is the keening of the wind over the walls. Lydia has performed well in her first combat, and I am very pleased with her.

We clear out the remaining bandits from within the fort. This proves tougher than fighting the exterior guards - the leaders of this war band seem to have surrounded himself with thugs and minor mages. I sneak around the dark rooms and corridors, dispatching bandits wherever we find them. Occasionally, they run at us in droves, and we desperately hack at them with swords and magic.

By the time we emerge from the fort victorious, the night has passed and the sun is rising. I do one final sweep of the ramparts to make sure all of worth has been taken from these bandit filth, then we head out of the fort to walk over the plane further west.

I catch my first glimpse of a mammoth herd - they amble, graceful for creatures their size, slowly. Soon, I find myself outside another mine. It seems as though the bandits are busy in this part of Skyrim, as they dwell within the confines of this excavation too.

The minor foot soldiers prove little trouble to either myself or Lydia, and I pick gold and arrows from their bodies as we fell them. They protect a bandit chief - this man knows how to find. He swings his enchanted sword, narrowly missing my head. We have to hack it him with our weapons, yet leap back whenever he takes a swing at us. But just like the other bandits, he cannot survive us for long. I pick his body clean of magical weapons and armour - these will fetch a high price next time I'm in town.

Being a mine, there are veins of iron abound. Thanks to a nearby pickaxe, I dig out numerous chunks of iron ore, as well as the odd jewel here and there. All of this should help me with my smithing.

Skyrim - New Homeowner

Faedral and I set out for Whiterun - we know the route quite well by now, and nothing interrupts our gentle walk through the countryside. He is silent throughout our walk - clearly he is deep in thought, but I don't want to push it.

I have some business with the steward of Whiterun, who rewards me for slaying some bandits leader. He also reminds me that there is a house available to buy within the walls of Whiterun. By now, I have amassed a nice fortune, and happily spend almost all of it on the promise of property.

It is a small house called Breezehome, right next to the blacksmiths. I pray that he won't work all night - on previous trips to Whiterun, they tend to leave the forge around sixish, so I should get a good night's rest. The ground floor is a simple place, with room for racking weapons, and an ante-room for creating alchemical potions.

The first floor is one large room, with a chest for storing anything which I consider too valuable or heavy to carry around, and a nice double bed for sleeping in. Off that is another ante-room - this one is for my Housecarl, Lydia. She is already there when I enter my new house - clearly news travels fast around Whiterun, and the Steward has sent her ahead.

I can sense tension in the air. Faedal is standing there, and I have no idea how he feels - his face is hidden behind metal armour. Lydia, on the other hand, seems to want to actively talk to me. Faedal recent disappearance and reappearance certainly doesn't help things. I make my choice.


I walk over to him, and ask him for my bits of armour and weaponry back. He doesn't seem to have an issue with this, nor with me taking the gold currency stored on his person. "I'm going to have to let you go" I hear myself saying to him. "It's just now working anymore." Without any kind of antagonism, he says okay, that I can find him in Riverwood if I need him again, and walks off.

My voice catches in my throat as he walks down the stairs. I walk around the top floor to follow his progress out of the house and, just as he leaves, he glances around at me. There are tears in my eyes, and I'm speechless, but I know deep in my heart that I've made the right choice.

Skyrim - From Riften to Ivarstead

Following the road heading north-west from Riften, a spy a building amongst the tree line. From a distance, it is a quaint place, but as I approach, two mercenaries attack me. They seem less than keen on me knowing the whereabouts of this place. After a tit-for-tat exchange of arrows, I put them both to sleep. Searching one of them turns up a key for a building called Black Briar Lodge - I'm guessing that's the name of this place.

I enter the building without knocking - after the welcoming committee outside, the time for good manners is over. I sneak through the entrance hall, a difficult job at best when wearing heavy armour. To prove my point, one of the mercenaries hears me and comes running into the hallway with his warhammer.

In the ensuring kerfuffle, I use Dwarf Cold to stab the hoodlum through the chest, but the noise attracts the rest of his crew. The dance of death I weave with these ne'er-do-wells is almost balletic in its beauty. And though battered and bruised, by the end of it I am victorious.

I have a look around the now empty rooms of the lodge for things to loot, but there isn't much of worth other than a few pieces of food to nab. I leave the place and get back on the road.

A mine is my next port of call - I can almost hear my pickaxe's eagerness for some fresh iron. Other than a couple of bandits, its a rather non-descript place. My opinion is further validated when I find a note on a table, saying that the mine is deplete and unworkable.

Disappointed, I walk back out into the light and fresh air. Walking further along the road, I spot a cave entrance surrounded by bones. I choose not to enter, not due to fear, but more due to the unknown. I can't' go losing myself in caves - there are people out there that require my help.

After a quick stop back at Riften to pick up some more potions (why else would anyone go there?), I head back to Ivarstead to fix the heart of a young lady there. Upon my arrival, I am greeted by Faedal! He doesn't say where he has been, and I don't ask - it is just great to have him back.

I approach the women with the love woes. Her name is Fastred, and she is annoyed that her parents won't let her marry the man she loves so that she can move away with him. I speak with her mother about it - according to her, Fastred was "in love with" another chap only a couple of weeks before. I chat with this man, who just happens to be my good friend Klimmeck.

He still loves Fastred, so I tell him to tell her that. It appears I am somewhat the cupid, as soon they are both declaring their undying love for each other. Another job well done.