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.

Skyrim - Riften, the dodgiest place in Skyrim

I wander around Riften, taking in the local views. It is a dingy town, with little of note. Even the inhabitants don't seem particularly happy about things, definitely fed up. I decide to get away from the negativity, go and sit in a temple. The only one in Riften is the Temple of Mara.

Mara is the goddess of love and compassion. Many people drag themselves to temples such as this when they are feeling sick, as they know they'll be treated well. I say this, because on every altar, I see a person laying and moaning. And not in a good way.

The priestess asks if I'd like to perform a task for Mara. Being the good-natured adventurer that I am, I of course agree. She says that Mara has heard a woman in Ivarstead praying for help in her relationship, and that help will be me. I add it to my list of things to do.

As I exit the temple, another man approaches me for assistance - I must look like the caring type. He introduces himself as Louise Letrush, and asks that I speak with another person called Sibbi Black Briar about a business deal gone bad. It involves a horse. I'm beginning to think that this has something to do with gambling and organised crime. Matters aren't helped by Sibbi currently residing in prison. Again, it goes on the list for dealing with another day.

I leave Riften behind for a while; it is a horrible place. Why anyone would want to visit here, let alone live here is beyond me. I just thank the gods that I managed to make it out of the place alive and in one piece. And that's saying something considering the dark holes and near-death experiences I've faced recently.

From the road out of Riften, I stumble across some standing stones. Rather than allowing me to pick one permanent blessing from a variety of blessings, this one only allows a single choice, but a powerful one - temporary but extended invisibility. I am tempted by this, very tempted as any man would be.

I turn away from the standing stones, content with the warrior blessing I already carry. As I round a large rock, something amazing greets my eyes - a fire atronach! This flaming daedra instantly starts throwing fire balls at me, not the best start. My mother always told me that fire and ice don't mix, so I throw back some ice magic. The atronach doesn't last long under the avalanche and succumbs, depositing a large chunk of fire salts onto the snowy earth. I am reminded of someone asking me for fire salts, that they need them for their furnace or something. I place the salts into my bag and carry on exploring.

I follow the road east until I am unable to walk any further - my way is barred by a large wall, the edge of the known world for Skyrim. I'll have to follow a different route, in this case headed west.

Skyrim - To Riften

I head towards the river, noticing a waterwheel in the distance. I have no idea what this place will be, but I hope to be able to sell more of the loot which I picked up in the fort. The village is small, barely two homes and the aforementioned industrial unit. A young boy tells me it is called Heartwood Mill. He also tells me a sad story of how his dad vanished into the wild, how his mum hates him for leaving, and of how lonely he is.

I decide to play a game of tag with him, and we run around the village together, hiding around corners and jumping out at each other. It is a welcome respite from the hours of death I've faced recently, and return to simpler times.

I leave quite soon, there aren't any shops here. I follow the river, aiming for the large town of Riften. On my way, I pass yet another fort, this one called Falder's Tooth. Archers pepper me with shots, but I will come back for them another time.

I also pass a large estate built out on a small island in the river. I approach the gates, but they will not let me in. No amount of talking seems to gain me access, and the shores of the island are too steep for me to climb up. I abandon my attempt, and move on towards Riften.

Reaching the south gate of the town, the guards here will also let me in. Maybe its my hours on the road, maybe its the thick sheen of recently spilt blood on me... The guard then explains that they are having issues with the Thieves Guild, and the only access to the town is via the north gate. It takes me a while to work my way around to the north side, and when I do get there, I have yet more issues in trying to get into the town.

The first guard steps up to me, and says that there is a fee for entry. Remembering the references to the guild from the south gate, I bring him up short. "This is a ruse" I tell him, and he instantly buckles under my withering gaze. "Alright, alright, I'll let you in. Just don't tell my captain!" I aim to do just that, if I can find him.

Riften is a confusing town. Anything of note is built up from the canals that run in from the river, but I'm told not go down to what is know as the "Ratway", as that's where the guild live. I'll give them a wide bearth for now, big up the Collider name around the town so they know I'm about.

As I approach the market, a bearded man approaches, asks me to help him out. My tired legs say no, but my helpful heart says yes. He walks back to his stall, and brings an audience together of the other stall owners, declaring that he has a magic potion for sale. Meanwhile, I work my way around to another stall, pick the lock to a safe box, and retrieve a ring from inside. I then place this ring in the pocket of another stall owner.

No one turns around, and I am initially impressed with my new-found talent. Yet I also know that I have just done something wrong. Yes, I've been walking around this land murdering and butchering bandits and animals with wanton abandon, but these were all generally bad people - I know not the politics of this town. I will have to make this up to myself.

Skyrim - Ivarstead Beckons

I stumble out of the tomb, leaving Goldir's body with the rest of his family. Was he the last of the line? Did he have any children, brothers or sisters? I banish these thoughts from my mind - I must focus on the here and now, not on what could have been.

I return to Ivarstead, to sell my rich pickings and tell tales of my immense bravery, but mainly to have a sleep. The owner of Vilemyr Inn sells me a room for the night for ten gold pieces - I don't complain about the price, there is no where else to sleep and my feet are killing me after all the undead stomping.

After selling my gear, I walk out of the village. Just as I turn the first corner on the road, a bear attacks me. I am quite surprised by this, despite having learnt of bears being a problem in the local area. Once more I revert back to the tried and tested tactic of running back to the village and having the village guards give me a hand. By the end of it, I am standing over the dead bear, sword bloody, and bereft of any healing potions - most of my major organs would be on bear claws were it not for those magical elixirs.

After restocking at the local trader, and begin my walk of discovery once more. After some time, I find a fort called Treva's Watch. It looks abandoned, but there are bandits shooting arrows at me from the walls and ramparts. I sneak past, so as not to get anything in my eye, and see an encampment a safe distance from the walls.

A bearded man called Stalleo is sat there with what I can only assume are his bodyguards. The fort belongs to him and his family, he says, yet the last assault he made on it ended with most of his party killed. He asks me if I'd infiltrate the fort through the secret cave entrance, work my way up through the fortification, and open the front gate to allow him and his guards in to assist.

Any normal man would turn away from this clear act of desperation. But I am not a normal man. I am an adventurer. I am Hedron the Collider! So rather than use this not-so-secret passage, I scout around the edges of the fort.

Using my bow, I take down many of the bandits as they attempt to do the same to me. I then scale the walls, and see that there are a couple more which require swift action from my blade. Nevertheless, soon all is quiet on the exterior of the fort.

Once inside, it is altogether a different matter. The bandits are well dug-in, and hide behind booby traps. They seem to walk around in groups, making my life quite difficult in trying to cull them. The idiots must have been kept outside, as the crème of the bandit community dwell within. Once more, combined magic and blade is required to end them, and they all fight well.

Inside the main tower of the building, I find an arcane enchanter. It is essentially a glowing green table with an animal skull on it. Through various incantations and proficiency, I produce a new weapon for myself - Dwarf Cold! She is a gorgeous piece of work, combining dwarven metallurgy with the killing power of ice.

By the time I make it to the switch to lower the gate, the fort is clear. I walk over to the entranceway in a daze expecting to find Stalleo eager and waiting to rush in. But instead, he is sat back in his tent, having a chat. He gives me some gold for my troubles, but I'd rather have the thanks. I try to force the point, yet he has nothing else to say to me.

I walk off into the wilderness.

Skyrim - Decent into Hillgrund's Tomb

Goldir tells me a horrible story of why he's afraid to enter the tomb. Its nothing to do with the necromancer as first thought - he was locked in there as a child. Looking through my adventure's eyes at the dank pit we're walking into, I see nothing but challenge and opportunity, but clearly the place left a negative impression on him.

He also goes on to tell me that his aunt (who is undoubtedly braver than him) went into the tomb on her own to put a stop to the necromancer who, in his own words, was going to do stuff to Goldir's dead family.

We walk quietly through chamber after chamber. Some of the dead are able to walk, so Goldir and I delight in planting our swords into their skulls. Soon, we are actually having quite a good time. I start to think that maybe, just maybe, we'll meet up in the future in a nearby pub, and laugh about all this near the fire place.

But these thoughts soon end when we find Goldir's aunt face down in the dirt. She doesn't look very well. In fact, she's dead. The upshot is that she has left a note to assist us getting through a locked door. A pull-chain is hidden, which I doubt either myself nor Goldir would have noticed were it not for his old aunt scrawling this message prior to expiring.

We enter another chamber, this being the largest yet. Instantly, I am aware that things might get a bit difficult. The necromancer is in the middle of the chamber, systematically raising the dead from their burial mounds so that more and more of the available space is filled with undead creation intent on our demise.

I set to ending them all with gusto. I notice that the necromancer is able to bring those already slashed by sword back to undeath, giving me and Goldir a bit of an uphill struggle. Leaving Goldir to his own devices and defence, I run at the necromancer. I throw plenty of electrical magic at him, a spell known to mages as "sparks" but to me as lightning-in-my-hand. This dents his ability to raise the dead, but he is still quite content to bash me with his staff.

I take one final slice at him with my sword, and he falls to my feet. I avail his corpse of all that it is worth - plenty of gems and gold. I start to feel that the journey into the tomb might actually be a literal goldmine, until I turn around and see Goldir in a very similar pose to his dead aunt. He knew the risks, and I never promised him protection, yet his death weighs heavily on my mind.

Goodbye Goldir. You fought well, and bravely (eventually). At least in death you know that a necromancer is no longer messing around with your family.

Skyrim - Bandits Galore

Prior to the dragon attack, I'd been in the mood for exploration, so I carried on with this. My first major discover on the road from Whiterun is a disused mine. I enter the dark entrance tunnel, and to my not so great shock, find the place inhabited by bandits. Is there no dark and dank ruin these thieves won't pick for a home?

The mine is mainly comprised of walkways suspended above the flooded areas, and it is from these that the bandits mount their attacks. They  seem to be specialised in archery, and shower me with arrows. They obviously have not heard about the special relationship I hold with the dragons, and I see to ending their lives quickly and efficiently. Many of them carry gold on their persons, as well as various other items of worth. I take these to the nearby town of Riverwood, and sell them to my good and dear friends Lucan and Camilla Valerius in the Riverwood Traders.

From Riverwood, I once more take the road towards Whiterun, but instead of crossing the river, I follow it east. The landscape begins to turn green, a welcome sight from the endless dreariness I've been exposed to of late. Spanning the river someway down as some kind of guard tower. My map informs me that it is called Valtheim Towers, but gives me no further clue to its purpose.

I get a worrying feeling about the place. Clearly it is inhabited, there are signs of living all around - tables, chairs, ale. With my sword drawn, I make my way up the nearest staircase to explore further, and come face to face with a bandit. Unluckily for them, they only see me when my sword has already done its job.

The span from tower to tower soon swarms with more of the bandits compatriots, all of whom seem oblivious to my excellent bow skills. Bodies soon litter the stone granary, and I cross to the empty tower on the other side of the river. A chest here and there rewards my exploration, but soon yet more bandits arrive to see what all the noise was about. None of them last long, and I cross the river again to continue my journey East.

On my way along the highway, I find a cave called Dark Shade - there is a gold vein right outside the entrance way, covered in blood and bones. I decide not to enter. For now.

The next stop is an old burial site, Hillgrund's Tomb. A man called Goldir is outside, and rushes over to talk to me. Clearly the legend of me has travelled far, yet he speaks not of dragon slaying. Instead, he begs me to go into the tomb with him to slay a necromancer in there. He's too afraid to do it on his own, so I offer to help, and we enter through the iron door together.

Skyrim - Join the Companions

My arrival in Ivarstead doesn't seem to surprise any of the inhabitants; only Klimmek pays me any heed. What is surprising is that he pays me money for the free delivery to the mountain - I'm not sure what his basis of economics is, but I'm not complaining. We exchange a few pleasantries, but neither of us are into it and we go our separate ways.

I head north, towards Whiterun. Nothing much occurs - I stick to the river, a leisurely stroll that takes in the sights of salmon leaping and elk roaming. I pick various flowers and fungi along the way, ingredients which can be used in alchemy.

Upon my arrival in Whiterun, I make my way to the Companion lodging of Jorrvaskr. This is a round building, seemingly bedecked in animal skins. From this alone, I already have a measure of those inside. I speak with a warrior called Kodiak, who says he sees promise in me - he allows me to join the Companions. Why they call themselves this is beyond me - they seem like any other fighter's guild to me.

My first task is given to me by another warrior, by the name of Farkas. I am simply to go to a local inn and beat up a man. This should be simple enough, after all I've spent the last few days neck deep in blood and guts. What could a drunk in a pub do to a towering adventure such as myself in full heavy armour?

I enter the pub and spot my target from across the room. He is a bard, and has apparently been annoying the women of Whiterum with his inappropriate and very forward manner. I make my way over to him and tell him to stop bothering people. He tells me that he left his previous town for the very same reason and wouldn't be moved again. And so I lay down the law, Companion-style.

My orders are simple - just beat him up, no dying should occur. And that's just what I do, but by the nine he makes a mess of my face in the process. I walk away from the pub with the chap promising me that he would be less uncouth in future. I smile back at him through a split lip.

I return to Farkas to inform him of a job well done. He just shrugs, speaks a barely-audible thanks, and walks off. Frankly, I feel disheartened.

I choose to leave Whiterum for a couple of days, get some exercise and see some of the local sights.  I check my map,  and see that there is large area just north of Ivarstead where I haven't set foot yet. Perfect, I think, and head for the treeline next to the river.

Things take a turn for the worse when I am at my furthest point from Whiterun - the sound of beating wings, a cry from reptilian throat, and the heat of fire instantly tell me that there's a dragon about. The first thought that springs to mind is "Run!", and looking down at my legs I'm doing just that. Whiterun is visibly in the distance, but still quite some way away.

I instead aim for the Honningbrew Meadery just south of the town, my theory being that I can bravely hide in one of the buildings while the giant winged beast bothers someone else. However, I see to my luck that there are two guards from Whiterun patrolling the road nearby. A new plan forms, one in which I am seen to take all the glory yet do less than half the work.

The guards turn to see me running in my heavy metal armour, then look beyond and see winged death behind me. They both begin to fire arrows at the dragon, which decides to make them its meal for the day. With some relief, I also join in with the archery display, and after some minutes have passed, the dragon collapses in a heap. Of course, I undergo the absorption of the dragon's soul - cos, you known that's what us Dragonborn do.

Skyrim - To High Hrothgar

High Hrothgar is my next destination, the mountain-top dwelling of the Greybeard monks that shouted for me a few days gone. A man by the name of Klimmek asks me to take a delivery up for him, as the seven thousands steps are a bit too much for him these days - what, and he thinks me knees aren't shot? Of course, I don't really mind taking it, but it was the expectation that I would that got to me.

I ascend the first set of steps, cut directly into the rock of the mountain itself. Things are pretty uneventful as I put my feet on step after step. My thoughts turn to Faendal; he would have enjoyed the view, and provided someone to talk to on this long journey.

Still, its a good thing he isn't with me - I soon find myself having to stick close to the mountainside to edge silently past giants and trolls. If I'd known about them before hand, I would have told Killick to heft his pack himself. These creatures are not to be trifled with. I lonely single adventurer (such as myself), it actually worries me what they would do to my person. The word "shreds" springs to mind, but I shake my head and keep moving.

It is to some great relief that I drag myself up the last few steps and spy High Hrothgar itself. There in front of me is the chest which Klimmek informed me is for deliveries. I pull the items from their canvas enclosure, and let them drop into it.

I turn away from the chest, and the Greybeard monks are already there waiting for me. They need to test me to see if I am Dragonborn - though from my own sense of self-importance, I'd thought that this had already been established.  Either way, they allow me inside away from the snow and cold, to dwell beside roaring fires and not-so-roaring monks - they are absolutely silent. The main monk tells me to have a shout, and I send two of the monks staggering. This is the only time they emit a noise. They congratulate me on my shout - according to them, this is a dragon's shout, and it has a specific word associated with it. I understand little.

The monks then seem to conjure up some kind of ethereal targets that they want me to shout at. I do this to each in turn, and due to the ghostly nature of the targets, the shout goes straight through and hits the monks. I can't work out whether they knew this would happen, or whether spending your life in a cold monastery makes you a bit simple.

Seemingly happy with the results of my ghost shout test, the main monk asks me back outside. I was only just beginning to warm up too. But seeing as though I was there at their suffering, I agree and follow. They take me out into a courtyard with a fence-less gate in the middle. Who builds a gate without any fence? Mountain-dwelling monk folk, that's who.

They monks teach me a knew word. I cannot read it - it is in some form of gibberish. But it leaves an imprint in my mind. They open and shut the gate quickly, and tell me to use this new word. I do so, and rather than sending monks stumbling, it grants me great speed that lets me leap forty odd feet in less than a second. Naturally, to find out if it all went in right, they make me do it again.

It is at this point that they decide they've done all that they can with me, and send me away. I don't even get any dinner, regardless of the calorific needs of an adventure climbing down seven thousands steps in a suit of heavy armour. I actually feel a bit used, upset even. I really miss Faendal.

So feeling a little light-headed and woozy from a lack of food, I take the shortcut down the mountain. Stumbling down the shale sides, I aim for Ivarstead and try hard not to look down,

Skyrim - Beyond Whiterun

Whiterun is just as I left it - desperately cold and wet, and in need of a bit of colour. I'd have thought that the dragon fight just outside the city walls would have added a splash of red, but I get the impression that the Jarl would have asked for it to have been cleaned off. I really shouldn't be so down on him actually, as soon as I meet up with him he is overjoyed to see me. He seems to attribute the death of the dragon on his doorstep as solely down to me. The others in the room don't seem happy about me taking all the glory, but say nothing. The Jarl decides that I am to be rewarded, and he bestows the title of Thane of Whiterun upon me. Guards will no longer harass me in the streets (though they didn't do this before) and I'm also given a Protector.

She is a warrior, and beautiful to boot. There is clearly an attraction between us. Maybe its my chiselled chin and piercing eyes? Regardless, my faith in Faendal shall not be swayed - he has proven too erstwhile an ally to give up so flippantly for the next sword-for-hire.

My next quest is to make my way south, to the "Throat of the World" to speak with some monks. According to ol' Jarl, they're the ones who made the funny noise which spooked everyone earlier. They will be able to test to see whether I am this "dragonborn" which has been mentioned. They live in a commune at the top of a mountain, but I must first go to the town at the foot of the mountain called Ivarstead. Leaving Whiterun behind, I notice that Faendal seems to have vanished. "Oh well" I think "Maybe he's gotten lost" He'll find me again.

Travelling down the road from Whiterun, I spot a figure in the distance. Is this Faendal I wonder? As I near him, I notice the man is dressed in black and carrying two large swords. "It can't be!" he loudly exclaims as he spots me, before yelling and trying to plow both pieces of metal into my incredible torso. Slashing away at me, I make expert hacks at him with my trusty imperial sword, all the while trying to burn him with some fire magic. Nevertheless, he drops at my feet.

I search the body, and find that he was an assassin sent by the Dark Brotherhood to kill me. Apparently someone doesn't want me alive. Who this person is, I have no idea - I have been nothing but caring to the people of Skyrim since escaping the imperial axeman a few days before.

The rest of my journey happens quickly, despite the long distance covered, and I soon find myself in the little town of Ivarstead. A man warns me about the nearby burial mound, where ghosts are seen at night. My hubris obviously leads me straight in - this one seems tiny in comparison to the Bleak Barrows of earlier days, and luckily for me it is. Working my way down through the laze of the mound, I put down a number of the undead before finding a "phantom" running around seemingly dressed in fur armour. Once more fire and steel come to my rescue, and the "phantom" drops dead. Literally, it was a man pretending to be a ghost. He seems to have downed a potion which gave the impression of ghostliness… Regardless, where he was pretending to be dead and now really is. Dead. I snort at the idiot, and make my way back above ground to be with the living.

Skyrim - Whiterun

Before leaving Riverwood, I have a little chat with an elf called Faendal- he's happy to join me as thanks for removing a potential competitor for him. The walk to White run is relatively uneventful, aside from the usual scraps with wolves. Luckily for me the creatures howl before appearing, giving me and my follower ample time to unsheathe my sword and prepare.

I don't ask much of Faendal. He is an archer, and he is there in the thick of it whenever he is needed. Clearly he sees me as a friend, but after the last time, I'm not prepared to go that far with him just yet. I don't think I can take another betrayal so soon.

Whiterun is a grey old town, built on top of a hill. Water seems to be flowing out of all manner of grates and springs in the ground. Chatting with the first man I come to, he lets me know that the town is based around two families. Both of them are feuding for some reason or other, maybe due to taking different sides with the Imperial invasion - I'm not sure, I didn't really listen.

I continue my journey up the hill, towards the main building in Whiterun. It is a luscious villa, replete with carvings, rugs and fruit bowls. As I walk towards what I assume to be the king, I am approached by a dark elf, sword in hand. She informs me that she is the "Jarl's" chosen bodyguard, Jarl obviously meaning King in these cold climes. All it takes is for me to say that I have some important news, and she lets me past - great bodyguard my bottom.

The Jarl doesn't seem too perturbed by the presence of my impressive muscle-form, nor by the weedy elf standing to my side. He is interested in my stories of dragons though, and thanks for despite the doom-and-gloom. Then he sends me to his wizard. For a second, I think that he's going to conduct horrible experiments on me. Instead, he asks if I can go and find a stone at Bleak Barrows. I arch my eyebrows, and reach into my knapsack - "This one?" I asks, producing a large piece of carved stone from the canvas. He looked genuinely pleased, I swear he was hiding tears. This is what I do it all for, not money or glory, just helping people.

Faendal and I make our way into the large hall once more, only to be told that another dragon has been sighted just outside the city walls. So naturally, putting all sanity and fear aside, we run into the wet weather with a host of guards to locate the flying beast. We find it near a watch tower, and it is making a mess of the area. The guards are hammering the thing, while Faendal plows flight after flight of arrows into its wings. Eventually it falls to my hand, a broad stroke to the neck. The creature falls, and bizarrely begins to turn to flame, its skin ash in the wind. I begin to feel a bit funny, the wind picks up. Apparently I've absorbed the dragon's soul…

Someone, I'm not sure who (come on, I've just absorbed a dragon soul), jabbers on about the legends of dragonborn. He says for me to try shouting. I think "I'll give him a shout…" and let out an almighty boom. People stumble at the blast of sound, and I myself feel quite shakened by the experience. "You are dragonborn!" they cry. This may be true, I have no memory of my actual mother.

And then there is a calling, as if from the gods themselves. What is that? No one seems certain, though all are in agreement that I should head back to Whiterun to speak with the Jarl.

Its all a bit much to absorb. We wander for a bit instead, to try to make some sense of it all. Rather than the quiet jaunt I needed, we find ourselves in the midst of an imperial vs. bandit fight. An imperial prisoner asks to be cut loose - without consideration for the political or social implications, he cut his bound wrists. To my surprise, he runs off to beat up the imperial soldiers. If he'd survived, I would have made him my son, but soon he lies in a pile of his own tomatoes. The imperial soldiers and bandits both seem unhappy that I've intervened in their little turf war, and turn on me and Faendal. Naturally, we explode into action and kill each of the factions in turn. Looking out of the hillside, its all a bit of a mess - blood, guts and bodies are like litter.

The bandits seemed to have found a home in a mine cut into the hill, and there are pieces of mammoth everywhere. Someone in Whiterun had asked me to grab a mammoth tusk on my travels, so I pocket the first stub of ivory I find. There are also large quantities of iron laying about. Where did they come from? The mine of course. I grab a pick axe and start to mine more of the ore for myself. Faendal just watches as I pick at the then vein of ore. The bandits seem to have some form of rudimentary smelting operation going on, so I put lump after lump of the iron into it to fashion some iron ingots. Surely these will have use with my smithing.

Of course, my pack is quite full now with the various bits I've accumulated on my travails. Back to Whiterun for some barter I think!

Skyrim - Return to Riverwood

The first thing I come to is a cottage, alone, in the middle of a plain. It sits between a fast running river and the edge of the mountain. Approaching it, and old woman calls to me “Leave me be, I have nothing for you.’ So I do. Walking another hundred feet into a nearby wood lands me closer to death than I’ve come yet – a wizard ambushes me in the forest, pulsing fire from his hands. I run away – my clothes and armour are not fire retardant – and leap desperately into the gorge. The blood is pumping in my ears, I know I’ve just had a close call.

Surfacing, I find myself about to go over the edge of a water fall and stop myself on a rock just in time. I also notice fish jumping at the waterfall – salmon as it happens. Free food! I am very happy with this dramatic change in circumstances so soon after my near-death that I don’t notice the wolves on the shore as I make dry land. Both of the creatures taste cold steel, and I wander along the path, back towards Riverwood, the village where I started.

Naturally, the first thing I think about on my return is a swift pint, and I make my way to the nearest pub. Thinking that I can get some useful hints from the local drunk, I pump him with mead. This does nothing to oil his tongue, and soon enough he is insulting me to my face.

Instead, I try the barkeep, who luckily is filled with rumours of local and far off lands. By this point, I am asleep on my feet, and take him up on the offer to rent a bed for the night.

Waking fully rested, I wander out into the morning light. A wan, pink light washes the landscape. I decide to do a bit of mental growing – in those early hours of the day, I walk away from various establishments having learnt the basics of alchemy and smithing. I also give the golden chicken foot back to the shop from where it was stolen – they give me gold, but its their thanks I prefer – I think the owner’s sister likes me.



The governor of Riverwood informs me that I could best serve the community by walking to Whiterun, the local capital city, to tell them about the whole dragon incident. Whether this is to just get rid of me, or actually serve a useful purpose, I am unsure. Regardless, I pack my things, and begin the long journey to Whiterun.

Skyrim - The Bleakest of Barrows

The path leads on through the rocky mountains, weaving ever upward. I begin to wonder if I should have worn a warm coat – the snow is getting particularly thick. Rounding a bend, I catch my first glimpse of the Bleak Barrows, an endearingly-named construction guarded by more of the thieving crew. They seem quite shocked by my intrusion, regardless of my rights as a rambler. Iron arrows begin to ping off the surrounding rockscape, and a couple of the buggers run at me with swords aloft. They prove to be worthless adversaries, and I leave their corpses to freeze.


Running to the top of some stairs, I see a metal door leading to the interior of the barrows. Finally, some respite from this grim weather! I find myself in a cave-like area, greenery able to find a foothold. I also find some more bandits. Again, they fall at my feet. I explore further, follow a calling for help which I hear from down the passageways – it is the gang leader, and he has become ensnared within a massive spider’s web.

Of course, there is a giant spider there too. This filthy creature spits poison at me, so I do what any adventurer would do – hide and fire arrows at it. It doesn’t take long before the spider is dead and I stand over its bloody corpse, laughing.

The gang leader calls out for help again. I saunter over to him, slowly (to show that what happens next is up to me). Unfortunately he won’t tell me where the shiny chicken foot he’d stolen from the shop is until I cut him loose. Of course, as soon as I do, he declares that he’d never tell me anything, then runs off, deep into the crypt. I’d laugh once more if it wasn’t so pitiable. My magnificent physique allows me to catch up with him pretty quickly, and soon he is dead by my hand.

Naturally I begin to put two and two together… what could I win myself from this dark place if I apply this magic foot to parts of the barrow? Being a place for the dead to be buried, I am not too shocked by the sight of open coffins proudly displaying their occupants. I am more shocked by the fact that some of them get up and start attack me with old swords. Though my awareness of my origin are sparse, I do believe it normal for dead things to stay dead.

Liberal application of fire magic, sword play, and using their own boobytraps against them soon things their ranks, and I am able to make my way into a hidden chamber with plenty of booty and gold. Of course, I also find a guardian who is none-too-pleased with me going through his “stuff”, so I throw some fire his way too, leaving his burning body at the foot of a rather beautiful underground waterfall.
I climb a staircase cut into the rock next to the waterfall, and spotting light at the end of the tunnel, pull myself into the open world beyond. What greets me is a view the likes of which I have never before seen – lights, and such vivid colour, in the sky! Counting my blessing at such a narrow escape from the until-previously-dead, I begin to make my way back down the mountain to collect my reward…

Skyrim – In the Beginning

I awake to find myself on a cart, being transported to a small village. A couple of chaps are sat with me in the cart, bound at the wrists. The speak of a rebellion against the imperials. I understand little of this, gazing longingly at the snow-covered mountains to either side of our moving transport.

Eventually, we arrive at our destination. It seems as though myself and another man have been captured alongside these rebels – he decides to make a run for it, and is promptly brought down by a hail of arrows. I decide to stick with the rest of them, until I am called forward.

It is at this point that I learn my name, and race, and identity as a whole. I am an imperial male, with short greying hair and in need of a shave. And I go by the name Hedron the Collider. How I came to be known as this is of little importance. Of greater importance is the fact that my neck is resting against a block, and a large man with an axe is about to sever my head from my body.


Luckily for me, a dragon arrives and gives everyone – villagers, prisoners, imperials – an almighty fright. The dragon also sets to burning a lot of the imperial guards. I run away, aware that the breath of a dragon is not the best place to explore with my new-found freedom. Following one of the alleged rebels, we make our way through a castle, which the dragon decides needs a small bit of remodelling.

Eventually, we find ourselves in a small cave complex, with a little river running through it. It would be pretty, were it not for the spiders spitting poison at me. To my great relief, I’d picked up some armour and swords from the fallen prison guards, and set to removing the spiders from my person with gusto.

We emerge from the cavern onto the side of a mountain, snow blowing and low clouds filtering. Trees are covered in frost, and the landscape extends far into the distance. My companion explains that the dragon has left us, that the mountain side will soon be crawling with soldiers, and for us to part ways. Up to this point, I genuinely thought he would end up being my best friend in these blasted lands. But alas, he is already running.

“Find the nearby village!” he shouts while running backwards away from me, “My sister will help you!” But not you, not you. Actually, maybe he really isn’t my friend. I already have no recollection of his name.

The village isn’t far by the mountain path I find myself walking, a simple rustic place called Riverwood. I enter the village and see a dog and a child at the side of the main way – the child informs me that he doesn’t steal things, and the dog just barks. I walk into a shop, where a brother and sister argue about chasing some thieves. Being the adventurer type, I offer to go walking off into the unknown, and to punish these thieves in the very den they call home.

Soon I am walking once more in the snow of mountains, towards a folly. An archer and a couple of bandits tell me that it would not be best for me to dwell, so I set to them instead with the cold steel of my blade. The folly is empty, but a path leads on, further up the dire mountain…